


An Educational Experience

by crushing83



Series: Spins and Pirouettes [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard's children - Freeform, Cuddling, Demisexuality, First Kiss, I am not a guy so I have trouble with guy-communications, I doubt the rating will change but I'm still mentioning it might, M/M, Modern AU, Pre-Slash, Protective Bard, contains excerpts of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, english Thranduil, equestrian AU, in their own way, maybe demisexual character, mentions of other Tolkien characters, sensual bathtime, some mild making out, the bardlings, things start happening in the romance department, western Bard, yep the rating changed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:19:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard and his children go to Imladris for a post-holiday clinic that Elrond and Gandalf put together. Bard and Thranduil get to spend some time together, in between teaching their respective classes, and their friendship starts to turn into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and his children arrive at Elrond's facility in Imladris, for the winter clinic.

"Oh, Da..." 

Bard smiled as Tilda peaked over his shoulder and looked at the farm spread out in front of them. "Pretty as you thought it would be?" he asked his youngest child. 

She nodded. Bard smiled more and gently eased off of the brake. The truck (and trailer) resumed moving forward; he'd stopped to give himself a minute to process the sight of the sprawling facility. No one had prepared him for how magnificent it looked and he found himself feeling a little awed that he'd been invited to teach there for a week. 

"So, remember, guys," Bard said quietly before they took the left fork in the driveway---which was really more like a private road, given the size of the facility---as Elrond had instructed him to do, the previous day. "We're going to be on our best behaviour, right?" 

Bain and Sigrid rolled their eyes. Bard could admit to himself that he felt a little silly giving them that warning---they were better behaved that he was on his best day, to be honest---but he was a bit on edge and it gave him something to focus on for a few minutes. 

"Are we bad?" Tilda asked. 

Bard shook his head. "No, of course not, darling," he assured her. "I just want to remind you guys that we're not home. So helping yourselves without asking or making messes and not cleaning them up---"

"We know, Dad," Sigrid murmured. 

"And Elrond said some of us would have to share a room since the Doriaths and Gandalf are there, too---"

"We know, Dad," Bain interrupted. 

"---so it will probably be you and me, Bain, and then Tilda and Sigrid---"

"Da, we know!" Tilda exclaimed on a little laugh. 

Bard sighed. "I'm sorry, guys. We don't do this, so... I'm a bit nervous."

"But they're your friends," his youngest said. She sounded confused. 

"Doesn't seem to matter," he said, trying to keep the sheepishness out of his voice. 

He chose not to remind his children that he hadn't known Elrond all that long, and even though he talked often with Thranduil, they didn't have history that couldn't be damaged by an error in behavior. Splitting hairs out loud wouldn't solve the nervousness he felt fluttering around his gut. 

He'd been mentally berating himself for that nervousness for the last couple of days. He wasn't sure why, but he was nervous to see Thranduil. He knew why he was nervous to teach and take part in the clinic activities, though; his career's future depended, to an extent, on his performance in the next few days. However, the reason for being nervous to see Thranduil eluded him. They were talking practically every day, about the important and superfluous, and since that one awkward conversation after Bard's fall, there hadn't been a disruption to their contact---or an event that had made Bard wary of the other man. 

If anything, it was the opposite that was happening. Thranduil was a good friend, Bard thought, and with every shared conversation, he liked the man a bit more. 

And still, he was nervous to see him again. 

He shook himself from his thoughts as the main barn came into view. Tilda all but moaned in wonder; Sigrid gasped; even Bain looked impressed. 

The farm was huge. The stables were beautiful---more extravagant than anything Bard had ever seen before---but everything that he could see seemed to have a function, too, which was something the reiner really appreciated. 

Before Bard could say anything, he caught sight of Legolas coming out of a barn door. The young man smiled and waved; Bard waved back, smiling when Tilda gave an excited gasp.

He climbed out of the cab of his truck as Legolas approached. 

"Nice to see you again," the blond said, still smiling. "Elrond's out riding, but he asked me to show you the horses' stalls and around the farm." 

"You spend a lot of time here?" 

Legolas nodded. "I'd spend a few weeks in the summer here every year as a boy, and now I visit whenever I can," he replied. He smiled again. "Elrond cleared two stalls for you in the aisle where he keeps his personal mounts. It's a bit away from the indoor arena, but it's quieter and warmer." 

"Sounds great," Bard responded. 

He motioned to his kids and they all followed his lead. They climbed out of the truck, too, shrugging into their coats and gloves as they slid to the ground. 

"Hello, Legolas," Tilda said cheerfully. 

Legolas grinned. "How's my biggest fan?" 

"I'm fine, thanks," she chirped politely, as her cheeks turned pink. "How're you?" 

"Just great, thank you for asking," the young man said, still smiling. "You guys ready to unload and unpack?"

Sigrid nodded and went to the storage compartment of the trailer with Bain. Legolas went to follow and Bard trailed behind with Tilda at his side. 

They worked together. Legolas had no qualms about helping Bard and his children unload gear; if anything, he seemed pleased to help and to show them around the facility as they walked to the tack room and stalls. 

It was a beautiful facility inside, too, reflecting the exterior's structure and style. It bore some of the dust and cobwebs that most barns did, but the floors were smooth concrete and had nice, thick, corrugated rubber mats running down the centre of each aisle. There were plenty of drains. Lights were bright but not overly so; Bard liked the high ceilings and the way the lights were protected by a fine mesh. He also liked the stall doors because of the way they operated (on tracks, so they could slide), and because of the way the top half could be opened once the door was shut. 

There was also plenty of well-planned storage, he noticed. Each aisle had a small area at one end, recessed as to not be in the way, where there was room for grooming and medical supplies. 

Bard was impressed. He could admit he was a little envious, because Esgaroth Farms was only designed to look good (and not to cater to the needs of staff), but mostly, he was impressed and pleased he would get to enjoy Elrond's stables for a week. 

When their gear was put away, they went outside to unload the horses. Legolas helped Bain lower the trailer's ramp; he insisted he'd stay back there to unfasten the back straps if he and Sigrid wanted to unload their horses. 

Thranduil's son worked comfortably with his own children; he moved with an ease born of years around horses and plenty of experience travelling with the animals. Within minutes, both Thor and Jane were standing in the yard, flaring their nostrils and breathing deeply as they took in their new surroundings. 

Bard chuckled when Thor decided there was nothing to get excited about but the possible contents of Bain's pockets. Bain shrugged and smiled. 

"He doesn't get worked up about much, does he?" Legolas asked, jokingly. 

"No, he really doesn't. But, there isn't much he hasn't seen, either," Bard replied. He looked at his son. "Might as well take him in. You remember where to go?" 

Bain set off with a nod. Thor walked easily with him. Jane did not like being left behind, but both Bard and Sigrid knew the mare did not get to dictate terms---and she'd calm down once she realised no one else was too excited. 

Jane gave a little whinny and shifted her weight as she heard the replies from around the facility; Sigrid murmured soothing words until the mare's body relaxed a bit and she lowered her head. 

"Does it meet with her approval?" Legolas teased. 

Sigrid chuckled. "For now, I think." 

The blond smiled. "Well, let's get her in her stall before she changes her mind." He looked at Bard and said: "I'll walk the girls in. If you want to park the trailer by ours---" he paused and gestured towards a small parking lot "---you can meet us inside when you're done." 

"Sounds like a plan," Bard agreed. 

He waited until Sigrid, Jane, and Tilda were out of sight before he moved back to the truck and hopped inside. 

It didn't take long to park the truck and trailer where Legolas suggested he leave them. When he made it back into the barn, his kids were still rolling the leg wraps and grooming the horses. 

"I was just telling your children that my father's been baking all morning," Legolas said when Bard stopped at his side. "I think he's hoping you'll go up there next, before riding or lunging." 

"I didn't know your dad could bake." 

Legolas nodded. "He does. Very well. He also likes to take over Elrond's kitchen any time we're here." 

Bard smiled. "And how does Elrond feel about that?" 

"I think he's accepted it, but it's still something they bicker about," Legolas replied. 

Bard chuckled. He hadn't known them for a long times but between the time at Edoras and the phone conversations he'd had with both of them (particularly once the clinic was a real, planned thing), he knew that Thranduil and Elrond were akin to brothers in many ways---especially in the way where both of them knew where the other's buttons were located and how to efficiently push them. 

"Alright. I suspect Bain and Sigrid'll want to ride later, but giving the horses some time to settle in can't hurt." 

"And the promise of freshly baked cookies and cupcakes doesn't have anything to do with it?"

Bard shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about," he commented, feigning ignorance. 

Legolas smiled. "Of course not." 

"Did you say cookies _and_ cupcakes?" Tilda asked as she stood up. 

Bard struggled not to laugh, but the wide-eyed eagerness he saw in her face was almost too adorable to resist. 

"I did," Legolas replied. "And if we're lucky, he's probably made hot chocolate from scratch, too." 

After that bit of information, Bard noticed all three of his children were moving a bit more quickly. He and Legolas shared an amused look as they waited the very few minutes it took for Bain and Sigrid to put the horses in their stalls, with their winter blankets securely fastened and with a flake of hay, each, for them to munch on. 

Not rushing, but not wasting any time, Legolas took them back through the barn and outside. He showed the kids where to go---which door on the farmhouse's porch to choose---and then he walked with Bard to the truck to grab everyone's bags. Bard protested, insisting that they didn't have much (and at the very least, the kids could get their own bags), but Legolas was insistent and impossible to dissuade. 

From the outside, the house was as large and as beautiful as the other buildings in the property, built in a similar style. The windows were lit from the inside with warm light; the home seemed pleasantly inviting, but that might have been a reaction to the time spent in the winter chill. 

The house smelled of baking chocolate when they went through the door off of the back porch. Bard closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. 

"Smells delicious," he commented unnecessarily. 

"He made me leave earlier," Legolas said quietly, almost conspiratorially. "I kept trying to sample everything, so he banished me." 

"Is it safe to go back in?" 

Legolas smiled. "I think he's outnumbered now." 

Bard laughed softly. The younger man pulled off his boots and shrugged out of his jacket before Bard could, and he walked through the entryway into the house. Bard took his time, made sure the bags were tucked along a wall and out of the way, before he tidied the pile of outerwear his kids had left on the bench that was on the wall opposite the door. 

When he was finally pulling off his own coat, he heard someone approaching. Assuming it was Legolas, he didn't turn around. He bent over and unlaced his boots. 

"I thought Legolas must have left you in the barn." 

Bard spun around and straightened at the sound of Thranduil's voice. He grinned. The nervousness he'd felt intensified, but it didn't seem as bad when he was in front of the other man. He put his coat down on top of his children's coats and he stepped forward; before he realised what he was doing, he was embracing Thranduil in a warm hug. 

The blond tensed for a moment, but it seemed to be in surprise; a second later he was relaxing and returning the hug with a squeeze of his own. 

Bard knew his ears were a little pink when he stepped out of the circle of Thranduil's arms; he hoped it went unnoticed. 

"It's good to see you," he said quietly. "How have you been?" 

"I've been debauching Elrond's kitchen, so I'm great," the blond replied with a smirk. He reached out and tugged a little on the sleeve of Bard's sweater before pulling his hand away from his arm. "How about you?"

"I'm alright." 

Thranduil's brow furrowed slightly. "You always say that," he commented, after Bard asked him why he was looking at him so seriously. "On the phone, I have to try to believe you. Here, I can look for myself." 

Bard rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Haven't fallen since the last time... the kids are doing well in school. It was Christmas last week, and I got to spend a few days riding with my kids. And there was turkey."

Thranduil snorted. Before Bard had a chance to protest the in-depth inspection, the taller man was reaching behind Bard's head and tugging his curls free of his covered elastic. 

"What are you---"

"You need a haircut." 

Bard chuckled. It may have been months since the last time he went to a barber's shop to get it trimmed; there hadn't been time lately, true, but it also felt like an extravagence he didn't need if he was going to keep his hair tied back in a messy bun. 

"Can you see my split ends or something?" 

Thranduil smiled and took a step closer so he was pressed against Bard's side. Bard watched, unsure of how he should react to their proximity, as he held up a curled lock of hair and inspected the ends of the hairs. He smiled more, over the bit of hair pinched between his fingers. 

"Yes, I can. You truly need a haircut." Thranduil's eyes and smile softened. "You have to take care of yourself," he added quietly. He released Bard's hair and patted his chest; he looked perfectly at ease while Bard felt a little stunned to have his friend so close, seeking contact. He wasn't sure what to do except try stay focused on the conversation. "Even cowboys can go to salons. You might enjoy it." 

"I... it's okay," he said, setting his hand on Thranduil's back. The other man relaxed a bit (Bard had been so wrapped up in his own uncertainty he hadn't noticed the other man's tension) and the gap between them shrunk even more. "I'm not the salon type." 

It was Thranduil's turn to roll his eyes. 

Before he could say anything, though, Bard spoke again: "It's tied back most of the time, anyway, Thran. Leave it... it's fine." 

"Alright, but I reserve the right to bring the subject up again after a day or two," Thranduil stipulated. He rubbed Bard's chest, almost idly, but then he stopped and leaned back; his other hand moved to Bard's back and gave him a little nudge. "Come on. If we're lucky, Legolas and your children haven't eaten all the cupcakes." 

"If my kids know what's good for them, they'll save me one." 

Thranduil chuckled. 

Bard followed Thranduil down a hall and into a large, open room with bright and wide work surfaces. He heard and then saw his children, all gathered around an old and worn kitchen table with Legolas. A couple of plates were between them, one stacked with cookies and another with brightly-iced cupcakes. Glasses of milk and mugs of hot chocolate were among them, too. 

"Da!" Tilda exclaimed. "Mr. Doriath is an excellent chef!" 

Bard smiled at his friend. "Yeah?"

Thranduil smiled a bit, back, but he still looked at Tilda and said, "You should call me Thranduil. Mr. Doriath makes me sound old. Or snooty." 

"And you're neither of those," Legolas teased. 

Thranduil reached out and gently tapped the back of his son's head. "I am not. You used to think I was a 'cool dad,' as I recall," he said. 

Legolas grinned at him. "Your age did make you very cool." He put on a mockingly sad face and added: "Of course, then I hit my teens and you turned thirty---"

"Dumb was what I remember you calling me then. Not snooty." 

"That happened later," his son said teasingly. 

Thranduil chuckled. 

Bard processed that information; he'd known that Thranduil had entered into fatherhood at a young age (unless he were immortal, which Bard knew was impossible) to have a son as old as Legolas, but he hadn't known exactly how old Thranduil had been. He was surprised. He couldn't really imagine how hard it would have been to have a baby when he'd been seventeen or eighteen. He hadn't really considered Thranduil's youth, before they met---not in anything more than abstract terms, anyway. He was looking at Thranduil in a slightly different light, wondering what other secrets and unplumbed depths he had to discover. 

Thranduil nudged Bard from his thoughts. "Go sit. I'll bring you some coffee," he offered. 

"I can---"

"Tilda, could you drag your father over to the table for me?" 

Legolas laughed as Tilda hopped off her chair and grabbed her father's hand. When she tugged, Bard laughed, too. 

"Traitor," he accused her in a good-natured tone of voice. 

Tilda grinned a toothy, chocolate-y smile at him. He scooped her up and deposited her in her seat before taking one of the empty chairs between Legolas and Sigrid. 

"Alright," he said, smiling at his children, "which should I try first?" 

"Cupcake," Bain replied. Sigrid and Tilda both nodded. 

He reached over to the platter of remaining cupcakes and picked one with bright blue icing. He unwrapped the bottom half and bit into it without hesitation. It was sweet and buttery and moist; the icing was slightly flavoured and enhanced the cake. It all but melted on his tongue. He moaned in appreciation as he swallowed and took another bite without waiting. 

His children laughed. He looked from them to Thranduil, who was coming to the table with two mugs of coffee. The tall blond smiled, set the mugs down, and gestured to his upper lip. 

Bard grabbed a napkin and wiped at his moustache. A smear of blue came away on the paper product. 

"Oh," he mumbled. He smiled and shrugged. "The taste is worth the mess," he added, smiling. 

Thranduil smiled back. He sat down and sipped at his coffee. Then, he added cream from a small container to it and stirred. Bard followed his lead, doctoring his coffee with both cream and a bit of sugar, and he took a sip before returning to his cupcake. 

They settled into light conversation---about the drive, about Thranduil's and Legolas' arrival, about the holiday season---before passing into talk about the clinic. Bard asked about the schedule; Thranduil only discussed it vaguely, insisting that Elrond and Gandalf would talk about it in plenty of detail over supper. Legolas gave him a bit more information---telling him about the number of students enrolled, and what other activities were planned. 

"I just want to be prepared," Bard told Thranduil, when the blond said that there was no need to worry. "I have a lesson plan, but it's not finalised---"

"Stop worrying." 

"But---"

"You are a fine instructor and you will do great." 

Sigrid smiled. "That's what we've been telling him," she said. 

"But he still worries." 

"I have confidence in my ability as an instructor---as a trainer. But, I've never done anything like this before," Bard explained. "I want to do well." 

"You will," Thranduil assured him. "This afternoon is about relaxing. Take a nap, ride, read a book, watch a movie... but make sure you relax." The blond smirked. "Or else, I'll be forced to make you relax." 

Bard smiled. The idea of being forced to relax amused him. It must not have been a problem with the owner of the facility, but Bard wanted to make sure he wasn't going to get into trouble if he decided to take a bit of time to unwind. "Elrond---"

"Will tell you the same thing when he gets back," Thranduil interrupted. "He likes hosting events like this. Says they're more of a vacation for the instructors than the students."

"Fine, alright, I'll try to relax," Bard said. 

"Thranduil said Elrond has lots of movies," Tilda told her father. "If you're gonna relax, do you wanna watch one with me?" 

"That sounds fun, darling," Bard replied. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about Thranduil's declaration that Elrond wouldn't mind him relaxing when he felt like he should be planning lessons, but it had been a long time since he did nothing but watch a movie and the idea held some appeal.

Legolas looked at his father. "I'm going to go free lunge the yearlings for Elrond, if you're alright here?"

Thranduil snorted and rolled his eyes. His son grinned. The older blond nodded after a minute and then said: "Call Tauriel before you get started? Just to check in---"

"She can handle things, but yes, I'll call and check in." He stood but paused to smile at Bard and his kids. "I'll see you guys later. If you want to go down and ride or anything, you're more than welcome to." 

"Thanks, Legolas," Sigrid said. 

"Yes, thank you," Bard added. 

Legolas left his father alone with Bard and his children. They talked and ate until they were interrupted by a series of noises coming from the porch area. The door opened and closed. A person's steps could be heard, followed by the steps of what sounded like a dog. 

A few minutes later, Elrond appeared in the kitchen with a mostly-golden herding dog at his heels.

"Bard! I thought that was your truck," Elrond said, smiling as he stepped towards the table. The dog made a beeline for the cooing Tilda. The man shook Bard's hand. "I hope you're settling in alright." 

Bard nodded. "Yes, thanks. Everyone's been great." 

Elrond greeted the three children and then he looked at Thranduil. "You couldn't resist, could you?" 

Thranduil smiled. "Nope." 

"Messing up my beautiful kitchen."

"Kitchens are meant to be used." 

Elrond chuckled. "Fine. As long as there's some left...?"

"Check the pot on the stove if you're looking for hot chocolate," the blond said. He looked at Bard as Elrond went to get himself a hot drink. "Because I always cook, he thinks I need a break from it. Every time we're together, I do most of the cooking. He tries to keep me out of here every chance he gets," he said quietly. "He conveniently forgets I find cooking relaxing and that he is a disaster in the kitchen."

Bard chuckled. "I've been called that a couple times, too," he admitted. 

"Menace," Sigrid supplied unhelpfully. 

Thranduil laughed. Bard shrugged. 

Elrond smiled as he approached the table. "I've been called that, too," he said. "And Thranduil, I only try to keep you from cooking so you can have a break." 

"I like cooking," Thranduil reminded him. "I also like being served edible food."

"I know how to order delivery," Elrond reminded him in response. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. Bard smiled into his mug of coffee. He was a little envious of their relationship, but glad to be included at the same time. 

"So while you're here, Bard," Elrond said while sitting down at the table on Thranduil's other side, "you're free to do as you like. Two bedrooms have been set aside for you on the second floor, but don't feel like you have to stay in them. There's a living room and a den you're more than welcome to use."

"Told you," Thranduil muttered to Bard. 

"Thanks," Bard said to Elrond, after a poke to Thranduil's side. "Is there a schedule for the clinic?" 

"There is," the brunet replied. "I thought we'd go over it after dinner when Gandalf's back." 

"Alright." 

Elrond smiled. "Relax. Enjoy your afternoon," he suggested. "If you or your children want to ride, go ahead. If you want to take a nap---"

"If we wanna watch a movie?" Tilda asked. 

"Then you'll find the comfiest seats and the bigger television in the den," Elrond replied, still smiling. "And perhaps you'll have some company if you don't mind?"

"Nope!" Tilda chirped happily. "It's always more fun when there are people to share it with." 

Elrond grinned. "I agree," he said. "And I suspect Finn might agree, too," he added with a gesture to the dog, who'd decided to rest his head in Tilda's lap as long as she kept rubbing his ears. 

"Glorfindel is a scoundrel," Thranduil muttered. 

Tilda laughed. "I think he's nice. I love dogs." 

"Do you have one at home?" Elrond asked. 

She shook her head. "Not yet." 

"Maybe when she's a little older," Bard explained vaguely. 

Elrond grinned. "I can put you in touch with a breeder or two when you're ready," he offered. "But there are a couple great rescue operations around Imladris, too. That's how I found Finn." 

"A shelter dog would be something I'd prefer," Bard admitted. He caught sight of his children's excited faces. "When we're ready," he added. 

Tilda pouted at him. Bard smiled. "I know, darling, but it's a lot of responsibility," he reminded her. 

"I'd help," Sigrid offered. 

"You have enough on your plate. And soon, you'll have getting into college to worry about." 

She scowled, but there was no heat in her expression. Bard took a sip of his coffee and looked up to find Elrond and Thranduil having a silent exchange of funny looks and little head shakes. 

"Everything alright?" he asked. 

"Fine," Thranduil replied. He nudged Elrond with his elbow. The darker haired man laughed. Thranduil turned to Bard. "How about I show you where your rooms are?" 

"Sounds good," Bard agreed. 

"How about I take Tilda to the den, show her where the movies are?" Elrond suggested. 

"We'll meet you there," Thranduil said as he and Bard stood up. 

"Dad, is it okay if we go ride?" Bain asked. 

Bard nodded. "Stay in the indoor arena, and be careful," he stipulated. "Maybe lunge first if they feel excited." 

"Thor, excited?" Sigrid asked on a little laugh. 

Bard smiled. Thor wasn't very excitable, even in new situations, but he wanted his kids to stay in the habit of being cautious. Horses were large animals, and when spooked they weren't often aware of smaller creatures around them. He didn't want them to be afraid, but he did want them to stay aware of what _could_ happen. 

"Go on. Keep warm and have fun," he said. 

"Supper will be at seven," Thranduil told them. "And Legolas can help you if you need anything." 

Both Bain and Sigrid nodded. Thranduil went to the porch before them and grabbed the bags. At Bard's insistence, he handed a few of them over. 

"See ya, Dad," Bain said as the two adults walked away from the entryway. 

"Have a good ride, both of you," he said to his children. 

Thranduil took him upstairs and showed him where everything was located. They put the bags on the beds---the girls in one room, and Bain with his father in the other (although he suspected Bain might end up in the other room because there were bunk beds in there along with another twin-sized bed)---and then Thranduil took Bard to the den. 

Elrond was showing Tilda his collection of movies. She seemed to be having trouble deciding between them. Bard smiled as he took in her eager eyes and slumped shoulders. 

"What are we watching, darling?" 

"I can't pick!" 

He chuckled. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" he asked. 

She held up the cases: two Harry Potter movies and Labyrinth. 

Bard smiled again. "How about one of the Harry Potter ones? We were listening to the audio book for that one---" he pointed to the case in her left hand "---on the way here." 

Tilda smiled back at him. "'Kay!" 

Bard took the other cases from her and put them back on the shelf; as he did that, Elrond picked up the small girl and showed her how to put the disc into the player. Bard joined Thranduil on the sofa, and the other two joined them as soon as the movie was playing. 

Tilda snuggled up to her father. Elrond sat on her other side. 

Bard was present for the first twenty or so minutes, but before the trio of Gryffindors could get through the first week of school, he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it won't be too long between chapters, but I am being forced to take my time on this one. Life's gotten busy, and I'm struggling with where this series should go. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it so far :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard wakes up from his nap, the evening continues...

"Bard..." 

The sound pierced through his sleep, as did a soft touch to the side of his face. He turned into it, humming quietly under his breath. The touch lingered, but eventually travelled down to settle on his chest. He reached up and put a hand over the light weight; it felt like another hand. 

"You have an hour until supper," the voice---Thranduil's voice, he realised---told him. "I thought you might want to wake up before everyone's back." 

He came back to awareness after that, sucking in a quick breath as his eyelids fluttered open. Thranduil was sitting on the coffee table, facing him; he was smiling. Bard squeezed his hand and released it. 

"Sorry," he mumbled gruffly, drowsily. "Didn't mean to pass out on you guys." 

"If we minded, I wouldn't have stretched you out after the movie was over," Thranduil explained. He smiled more. "Good nap?" 

"It wasn't bad," Bard murmured. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Thanks for waking me up." 

"You work too hard," the blond commented. 

"I had to get up earlier than usual this morning, to get things done," he said, dismissing Thranduil's concern. Bard didn't think he needed to know that Braga hadn't been doing his job lately. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and rubbed his face again. "What did I miss?" 

"Voldemort's cronies' attempts were thwarted, the golden trio lives to wreak havoc another day," Thranduil replied. Bard chuckled; the other man smiled back. "Tilda and Finn have been keeping me company in the kitchen. She's helping. She set the table and assisted me with making dough for rolls. Gandalf returned, but he and Elrond went to the stables because a few students arrived. Legolas is still out with Bain and Sigrid." 

"Mmm okay," Bard murmured. "Give me a few minutes to wake up and then I can help, too." 

"You can help by sitting at the island with a glass of wine," Thranduil said.

"I can do more than---"

"You can be eye candy, and that's it," Thranduil said in a voice that left no room for negotiation. 

Bard chuckled. "Eye candy?" 

"Mhmm," Thranduil hummed in agreement. "Even with the lingering traces of blue in your moustache, you're still quite delectable," he said in a teasing tone. "Perhaps sweeter because of it."

The dark-haired man blushed. "Thanks. I'll... I'll, um, go wash up." 

He swung his legs around as he sat up. When he stood, he was between Thranduil's bent legs; the blond didn't flinch away from him. Thranduil tipped his head back and looked up at him. Bard looked down; he fought against a surprising impulse to learn if his hair was as soft as it looked. 

Instead, he reached out and squeezed Thranduil's shoulder as he slipped past him. 

He thought he heard a sigh, but he didn't turn back around. He went up the stairs, into the bathroom, and he closed the door behind him. 

Bard took a deep breath and leaned against the counter around the sink. He hung his head; he rolled his shoulders. After another deep breath, he looked at his reflection in the mirror on the wall. 

He was tired. He'd had to get up early to work a few horses before he fed and hayed the horses (which wasn't his job, but no one else was going to do it), before they left for Imladris. It felt as if that course of action was catching up with him; the nap had left him itching to go back to sleep. 

But, it wasn't exhaustion that left him feeling most of the what he was feeling. 

Around Thranduil, he felt both calm and nervous at the same time. He was unsettled by that. He didn't know why he felt the way he did; he and Thranduil had been getting closer, they'd had a relatively good friendship in the works, and he didn't have a reason to be on edge. Still, waking up by Thranduil had left him unbalanced. He wasn't sure what to make of it or what to do about it. 

He sighed and turned on the water. He rinsed his hands and face; then he lathered up his hands with soap and washed his face. After rinsing again, he grabbed a folded towel off of the counter. Once he was dry, he fixed his hair. He let it down from its messy bun and rubbed the back of his head. The elastic was covered, but it still pulled at his hair---sleeping on it hadn't helped, either. 

He left his hair down and only tied the front and top pieces back. His curls fell below his shoulders. He examined them as much as he was comfortable examining them; he wondered if Thranduil was right about getting it cut. He also wondered if he was becoming too grey---but squashed that thought as soon as he thought it. Vanity wasn't his style; it wouldn't fix anything in his life that needed fixing. 

He went back to the kitchen. Thranduil grinned at him and they shared a smile before Tilda stole his father's attention. 

"You've been helping, I see," he said when he bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Are you having fun?" 

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "And Finn is such a good puppy! He does tricks!" 

Bard chuckled. "I'm sure he's very well trained. Elrond must have done obedience lessons with him." 

"Arwen, his daughter, did," Thranduil said. "Finn was a puppy when she was a teenager. Maybe she was between Bain and Sigrid in age." 

"Did Elrond teach her how to train Finn?" Bard asked. 

"No, I believe he enrolled them in a community class." 

Thranduil moved around the kitchen with the same ease he'd demonstrated earlier in the day. He stirred the contents of two pots before going to a cupboard and pulling out a couple of stemless wine glasses. Bard nodded when he held up a bottle of red wine; Thranduil poured some into both glasses and offered Bard one. 

"Cheers," Bard murmured as he accepted the glass. 

"Cheers," the blond replied. They sipped at roughly the same time. After Thranduil swallowed, he motioned to Bard's daughter. "Now, Tilda, if you pull a chair around again, I'll show you how to add the vegetables to the sauce." 

She gave an excited squeal; Finn barked once in response. Bard chuckled as he watched his little girl push a chair from the table across the room to the stove installed in the island. She stood up on it with Thranduil's help---and he was glad his daughter seemed to like his friend---and together, they added what vegetables Thranduil had chopped to the sauce. The blond was careful with her, making sure she didn't get too close to the simmering pot and she didn't push things into it with too much force so she didn't accidentally splatter herself; Bard felt himself smiling more as he watched them working together. 

"Stir slowly," Thranduil advised when he gave her a large wooden spoon. 

Tilda nodded, her face a perfect example of concentration. Bard decided he could sit for a minute and enjoy his first glass of wine; he took a seat on one of the bar stools on the other side of the island and watched them together. 

"How's that?" she asked. 

"Perfect," the blond assured her. 

Tilda grinned. Bard hid his smile in his wine glass. 

He watched them work together until Elrond returned with Gandalf and Bain. Then, his focus was divided. He spent some time catching up with Gandalf before finding out how Bain's ride went. As he suspected, Thor had behaved calmly and sensibly---and stubbornly, when Bain tried to work on getting him to jog and lope with his hips tipped to the inside---and Bain seemed to look forward to the week ahead. 

Bain and Sigrid were going to ride in one class that week, with either Legolas or Thranduil. Bard had thought it was a good idea. Neither of them spent much time in an english saddle, but they were good, keen riders; Bard knew they'd do alright and he was glad they'd have an opportunity to try something new (to them). 

When Sigrid and Legolas returned, there was another surge in conversation. Bard learned that Jane had been a little fresh, but by the end of the ride, she was fine; Legolas had helped her a bit and then introduced her to the other clinic attendees who were from other stables and had to unpack and settle their horses. 

By the time everyone had cleaned up and shared their stories, Thranduil and his little helper had moved the meal to the table. 

Elrond took the lead; he went to the large table and the others followed. Bard ended up between Bain and Sigrid, and across from Tilda who was sandwiched between Thranduil and Legolas. Elrond was at one end of the table; Gandalf was at the other. 

"Thank you, Thranduil," Elrond said after he picked up the first dish and spooned some of the pasta onto his plate. "This looks delicious." 

"Better than takeout," the blond replied, smirking. 

Elrond chuckled. He passed the serving dish to Bain. Gandalf started at the other end, with the salad, and soon after, everyone was serving themselves. When the group started eating, one by one they each offered words of appreciation to Thranduil. After the first ten minutes of the meal, Bard noted that Thranduil's cheeks were lightly flushed. 

During the meal, Elrond and Gandalf discussed the clinic's schedule with Bard. He learned he would be teaching in the afternoons; the western classes would start with a showmanship class at noon (on every day but the first) for anyone who wanted to attend and would continue with three riding classes grouped by perceived level of experience. Each group would consist of no more than six riders. 

In the morning, Legolas was taking the first two groups of english riders and Thranduil would take the third. Sigrid would be in Thranduil's class, but she had the option of moving to Legolas' second class if she wanted to; Bain would be in Legolas's second class. Thranduil would also be teaching a yoga class three evenings that week (on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday). 

"Bard will be joining that class," Thranduil said, when Elrond mentioned his optional fitness sessions. He grinned cheekily. "He promised." 

Sigrid was grinning. Bain looked like he couldn't believe his father had agreed to such a thing. Tilda was preoccupied with Finn's presence under the table. 

Elrond smiled; he chuckled when Bard winced and nodded. 

"I'm sure it will be fun," Elrond assured him. "I might join in, too." 

Thranduil's playful expression morphed into one of evil glee, Bard thought. His suspicions were confirmed when the blond said: "I promised Bard I'd go easy on him. You do not get a similar promise."

Legolas snorted. "I'd sit this one out, Elrond. Judging by the look on Ada's face, you might end up stuck in pretzel position." 

Elrond laughed. Thranduil rolled his eyes. 

Bard looked at the blond. "No pretzel position, okay?" 

Thranduil smiled and nodded. "I promise." 

"Good, because I can't teach my lesson the next day if I'm stuck, bent over and all twisted up," he said. 

Thranduil chuckled. "I'd unbend and untwist you if that happens," he assured the dark-haired man. 

"Great," Bard replied. 

The blond stood up a moment later, to gather a few empty plates and ferry them to the sink. Bard stood and did the same. 

Thranduil received his assistance with a frown. "Go sit," he insisted.

"You go sit," Bard said in response. 

He scowled. Bard set his load of dishes down on the countertop and put his hand on Thranduil's arm. "Go on," he said quietly, smiling. "I'll get this. You cooked. Sit and have a glass of wine." 

Thranduil's scowl was replaced by a pout of his lips and a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. He nodded and heeded Bard's request. 

When Bard turned to go back to the table, he saw Elrond had risen and was picking up some of the dishes, too. They shared a little smile---Elrond's a little pleased and Bard's a little unsure---and then Bard picked up two of the serving platters. 

He and Elrond worked together to clear the table; Bard (at Thranduil's whispered insistence), started boiling water for tea and coffee, while Elrond retrieved the rest of the cupcakes and cookies from Thranduil's earlier baking. Tilda was thrilled to see the brightly-coloured, frosted cakes again; Sigrid, declaring she was stuffed, refrained from taking one until Bain asked to split one with her. Bard watched them fondly---he didn't know how else to look at them, really, as much as he disliked being a sap (in the privacy of his own mind)---and turned to get some coffee cups before he could turn too much to mush. 

"Who would like tea and coffee?" Elrond asked the group. "Thranduil? Legolas?"

"Tea, please," Thranduil murmured. 

Legolas and Gandalf made a bid for coffee. Tilda asked if she could have more milk; Bard went and got that after he told Elrond he'd prefer tea, too. 

"What blend did you put in the infusers?" Thranduil asked Elrond. 

"The one you made. As if you couldn't already tell." 

Thranduil smiled a bit. He brought his mug up to his face and inhaled deeply. He smiled more. Bard watched; he found the sight in front of him a little mesmerising. 

"Does it pass inspection?" Elrond teased. 

Thranduil nodded. He grinned. Elrond chuckled. 

The tea had been delicious, in truth. Bard had expected a bag of dried tea bits, but had instead received a mesh infuser full of whole tea leaves and bits of herbs and spices. He'd suspected it had been a purchased blend; hearing that Thranduil had made it was a pleasant surprise and the revealing of another layer to the man he considered a close friend. 

"You blend teas a lot?" Bard asked, genuinely curious. 

Thranduil shrugged. "Sometimes. It's a bit of a hobby, when I have a little free time." 

Legolas rolled his eyes but remained silent. Bard suspected Thranduil was underplaying his talents; he made a mental note to ask his friend about that later. He leaned back in his seat and sipped his tea. He watched his children as they quieted---as they became tired after an active day---and felt a little sleepy himself. 

"What time do you feed in the morning?" Bard asked quietly. 

"Legolas and I will go around at six, then come back in time for breakfast," Elrond replied. "If you could help us with the evening feeding, that would be a big help." 

Bard nodded. "No problem." 

Legolas squeezed his father's arm. "I'm going to head to bed, Ada," he murmured. "Do you need any---"

"I'm fine," Thranduil murmured. He patted Legolas' hand. "I'll see you in the morning," he added quietly. 

Legolas smiled at Bard, said good-night to his children, and then waved at Elrond and Gandalf. Bard spied Tilda yawning into her glass of milk; he also watched as Thranduil smiled and reached up to brush her hair off her her face before she sipped at the creamy liquid. 

"Sleepy, Tilda?" the blond asked her. 

"Nuh-uh." 

Thranduil smiled at Bard; he smiled back at his friend. "Well, Finn is looking pretty sleepy," Thranduil murmured. "How about we go find him a place where the two of you can snuggle up for a bit?"

"Can Daddy come?" Tilda asked. 

"Absolutely." 

Bard chuckled. He took one last sip of his tea, checked that his older children would be alright (they managed to assure him they'd be fine without rolling their eyes too much), and then stood. He walked to Tilda and helped her out of her chair. 

"Finn?" she asked Elrond's dog. 

Glorfindel, as Thranduil called him, gave one look to Elrond before focusing on Tilda. Elrond smiled. Bard didn't think Finn would stay with Tilda all night, but he hoped the dog would stick around long enough for Tilda to fall asleep. She was awfully attached to him. Thranduil led the way, Bard took up the rear, behind Tilda and Finn, and the four of them walked from the kitchen to the second level of the house where the guestrooms were located. 

Bard got Tilda ready for bed rather quickly; Thranduil wished her goodnight but slipped out of the room while Bard sat down next to her and tucked her in under the covers. Bard left her with one light on and Finn at her side, seemingly snoozing on top of the blankets as she rubbed his ears. 

"Sigrid and Bain will be up soon, I'm sure," he added quietly as he got off of the bed. 

"I'm okay," Tilda murmured. 

Bard smiled. "I know, darling." He leaned over her and pressed a kiss into her hair. "Sweet dreams." 

"Night, Daddy," she whispered. 

Bard lingered at the doorway, watching her, before Thranduil caught his attention. He smiled at his friend and closed the bedroom door almost all the way. 

"Thanks," the darker-haired man said quietly. 

Thranduil tilted his head. Long lines of pale blond hair rippled over his shoulder with the movement. "For what?" he asked. 

"For being so good with her. All afternoon, you've been..." 

"I miss when Legolas was that age," Thranduil admitted. He leaned against the wall. "You're looking at us on the other side of a rough patch, but at that age... he didn't know his father was human. It was nice. To be that big. Tilda reminds me of those days." 

Bard smiled more. "Softie," he whispered. 

"I've no idea what you mean," Thranduil sniffed. 

"C'mon. Let's go have another cup of tea." 

"Wait," Thranduil whispered. 

Bard leaned against the wall and waited. After a few minutes, he heard Tilda murmuring to Finn. 

"It's a pretty place here. It feels... warm, Finn. It feels like our house feels," the young girl murmured. "I like Da's friends. And Legolas is here! And... and... everyone seems happy." She stopped and sighed. "I hope this week is like a vacation for Da. And I also hope Da finds me a puppy very close to just like you." 

Bard closed his eyes and smiled. He felt Thranduil's hand slip into his and tug; he followed his friend quietly, down the hall and back towards the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been able to get a bit more written the last few days. Hopefully this trend will continue. *fings crossed* 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After teaching his classes on Monday, Bard takes part in Thranduil's yoga class.

Bard shifted his weight in the saddle and watched as his last class of the day ride around him. Jane shifted her weight, too; Bard bumped her sides lightly with his legs to scold her for moving. 

"Soon, girl," he murmured. 

His first class had been rough around the edges---full of riders that competed on a smaller, local show circuit, if at all---but it had been a fun class. He decided to spend the time teaching them reining maneuvers to get them more comfortable in their saddles and to give them something new to help them strengthen their skills. 

His second class had been a group of students a little better. Some had been riding for years, some had just started showing on the same circuit as Bain and Sigrid. He did trail with them, between exercises to help with their balance and their horses' abilities. 

His third class was at a better level. He personally thought Sigrid was a better rider than most of them, but they were all very skilled. He wanted to do some trail with them, too, but first he had to assess them as a group. 

He was riding Jane because Sigrid had had some problems with her in her first lesson of the day. The mare had been agitated; she and Thranduil had handled the situation well, but she was still a little unsettled and Bard didn't think an extra ride (no matter how brief) would hurt the horse. 

He snuck a peek at the note card in his pocket. 

_Cass, blond, paint gelding._  
_Lindir (Lin), brunet, braid, sorrel stud (Elrond's student)._  
_Gildor (Gil), blond, braid, grey gelding (Elrond's student)._  
_Val, redhead, bay gelding._

"Okay, guys, let's trot for a bit and warm them up. After a few times around, I'm going to give you some exercises to work on and then I'll bring you in one at a time to do one of the obstacles," he told them. As they moved into a faster two-beat gait, he continued talking. "If that works, we'll continue that for the next couple of days, and then maybe try something different later in the week if you want---or we can keep doing what we're doing." 

He watched them for a few minutes. Then, he decided to give a bit of advice: "Cass, I like where your hands are, but try not to snap 'em so much. If you need to make a correction, move nice and slow. Pull up, make the adjustment, then put your hands back. Slow and smooth, Cass.

"Gil, looks good. Try moving your legs back a bit. A little more pressure will help your horse stay together, will help him get his hind end underneath him better. 

"That looks real good, Lin. Try pushing for a longer gait. I think your horse can take it. It'll help with his stifles and loosen up his shoulders. 

"And, Val, if you keep your eyes up, you'll find it easier to push from the saddle when you sit." 

He watched them go around, trying to put his advice into action. Pleased, he smiled and said: "Good work, guys." 

He urged Jane into a jog and then into a trot. He stayed on the inside track, so he didn't have to worry about moving around his students and so he could watch them as he passed them. Jane snorted a little; she flinched when Bard guided her past Lindir's stallion, but Bard stayed calm and Lindir's mount was very well behaved. 

When they were done loosening up, Bard instructed them all back into a jog and he started explaining how bending their necks and hind ends would help the horses move better---and how it helped the horse and rider pair work together as a team. He demonstrated on Jane, keeping her in a medium-sized circle and bending her head one way and then the other, before straightening her neck and doing the same with her hind end. The whole time he demonstrated, he talked to his students; he saw them paying attention, trying the exercises out a little bit, and he smiled a bit as he talked. 

"Alright," he said when he finished, "just try these things out along the rail. Stay at a jog if you can, but if you need to slow to a walk, that's alright, too." 

He paused and looked around the arena. A few spectators were huddled along the bench, talking quietly when they weren't watching; he recognised a few as students from previous classes and a few from Sigrid's and Bain's classes. 

After a quick study of the group, he decided to pull Lindir into the trail obstacles first. The man seemed to have the best handle on the bending exercises, and he knew, after talking with Elrond, that he was a little familiar with trail obstacles. 

"Lin!" Bard called out. "When you're ready turn into the centre, slow to a walk, and join me by the box." 

He talked to Lindr about the box, the aims of the obstacle, and then let him tackle it. Bard watched as the younger man turned in stops and starts, looking on both sides of his horse as he moved. 

After he finished, Bard smiled. "Not bad," he said quietly. "This time, try focusing on where his front feet are. You want to keep those front feet moving in a square, along the inside edge of the poles."

"Oh. So it doesn't need to be a strict pivot?"

"Try to keep it a pivot, sure, but it's usually too tight a space, even if you alternate turning on the haunches and forehand," Bard replied. "It's not a good idea to walk a small circle, but between pivots on both ends and side passing, you can get a tighter turnaround." 

Lindir nodded and tried again. Bard grinned as the younger man did a much better job. 

"That felt better," Lindir said. 

"It looked better." 

"How can I improve it?" 

Bard thought about the question. Then, after a quick glance at the others---and a reminder to Cass to draw on the reins smoothly and slowly---he turned his attention back to Lindir. 

"When practicing trail, the best thing I can suggest is to take it slow," he advised. "In the show ring, you can be amped up, your horse can be amped up... and trail is all about slow teamwork. 

"In the practice ring, the best thing I've found is to take it slow, to do half or double an obstacle, to keep the horse's focus on you. Take two steps one way, stop, take three steps another way. Or just take the box one step at a time. One step, stop. One step. Then, stop. And so on." 

Lindir nodded. "Can I try it again?" 

"Go for it." 

Bard watched as Lindir negotiated a turn in the box in the other direction. He smiled; it was smooth and slow and without any dings to the poles making the box formation. 

"Good," Bard said. "Why don't you go try the bending exercises? I'll bring you back in later and we'll try something else."

Lindir smiled a bit; he and his horse jogged away from the obstacle after stepping out of it. 

After Lindr, Bard called Val into the centre of the arena. He decided to take her through the box, too. She wasn't as polished as Lindir, but she didn't need to be told to take her time. Bard suspected she trained in trail more than Lindir did. She hit the poles more, her partnership with her horse not quite as solid as Lindir's with his horse, but she showed a readiness to learn. Bard showed her how he practiced the box with Jane, and had her do it again. 

Satisfied with her improvements, he sent her back to the rail. He went through the same process with Cass. Getting her to slow down was tough; she was a good rider but she was too quick with her hands for Bard's liking. If she were his student, he would have put her on Thor to have her experience the agitation the gelding had no problem expressing when someone was too rough or quick with him---but also to hopefully to give her an illustrative experience in how going slow can result in a beautiful, easy ride. Since she was not his student, he didn't feel right about taking that course. Instead, all he could do was repeat his advice and hope it made an impression. 

Gildor was called to the box after Cass left for the rail. He was inexperienced in trail---he usually competed in pleasure futurities, showing for Elrond's clients as well as for himself---but he was a steady, quiet rider and he and his mount were a good team. He understood the mechanics of trail and had no problem getting his gelding to take the box one step at a time with little fuss. 

After they'd each tackled the box, Bard glanced at his watch. He guessed they had enough time for one more obstacle each, and decided to get them loping in the opposite direction to the one they'd been jogging. 

When everyone reversed and loped off, he guided them through the bending exercises again. Then, in the reverse of the order he used for the box, he called them in, one at a time, to try the L-shaped back-through. 

By the time he had Lindir negotiating the obstacle, he noticed Thranduil and Elrond leaning against the rail at the entry gate. Thranduil smiled; Bard smiled back before returning his focus to Lindir's slow progress through the L-shape constructed with wooden poles. 

"Just like that, Lin," Bard said encouragingly. "Keep your eyes bouncing between the horse's ears and one of your boots to chart your path. This way your weight isn't shifting back and forth, so you can keep your horse straight." 

He turned and looked at the others, still loping, still working on flexing their horses to bend one way and then the other as they moved along the outer track of the arena. 

"Everyone loping?" he called out. "Slow to a walk, give your horses their heads. They've earned it." 

He waited until Lindir cleared the ends of the poles and smiled. "Good class, everyone," he said loudly and happily. "Are there any questions?" 

Val had a question about bending her horse's hind end while loping. And after he answered it, she smiled and thanked him for his time. The others approached to thank him and then they began to dismount. 

As they did that, he loped Jane off to the right, moving her past the end of the arena she hadn't been wild about that morning, and then brought her into the centre of the arena. After a flying lead change, he loped around the whole arena once and stopped in that same area. 

Jane snorted. Bard smiled and shifted his weight. 

A moment later, he urged her into a spin. He didn't do much reining with her anymore, but she remembered how to move as if no time had passed from the early days of their competing together. After five spins to the left, he did three to the right. He pushed her into a jog and circled up at the far end twice before stopping and dismounting. 

When he walked to the gate, Thranduil and Elrond were still there. 

"She seems better," Thranduil commented. 

"She's a bit more spirited than Thor. I don't know what it was, but hopefully she's used to the ring now," Bard commented. 

Elrond turned his attention from another student to them. "Good class?" 

"Yes," Bard replied without hesitation. He smiled. "It was a fun day." 

Elrond smiled back. "I've heard nothing but good things from your students." 

"That's great." 

"And now, you have just enough time to finish up here and get ready for yoga," Thranduil teased. 

Elrond chuckled. "Don't rush, Bard," he advised. "We still have to feed the horses and there's time for a light supper before heading back to the viewing room."

"Thank goodness." 

He went with the other men into the barn. Bain and Sigrid had gone back to the house after their lessons, and as far as he knew, they were spending time with Tilda. He was glad they were able to take some time to relax away from the barn; he wanted them to have a bit of a break from their day-to-day routines. 

It didn't take long to get Jane cleaned up and back into her stall. Then, he joined Thranduil and Elrond in the feed room. They divided up the tasks and had the barns' horses fed, watered, and hayed in under an hour. 

He'd felt rather energised after his last class, but by the time they returned to the farmhouse, Bard couldn't deny he was feeling a little drained. 

"It won't be so bad," Thranduil murmured as they shed their outer layers. 

"Hmm?" 

"My class." 

Bard smiled. "I know," he murmured back. 

"If you don't want to do it---"

"You're only picking up on my being more tired than I thought," Bard interrupted. "It's not reluctance to try your class. I'm nervous, sure, but this week's about trying new things, right?" 

"I... right." 

"So what new thing are _you_ going to try this week?" Bard asked. 

Thranduil stopped moving. Bard pretended to pout as he delayed. 

"I'll think of something." 

Bard chuckled. "C'mon," he insisted. "Let's grab something to eat so we're at full strength when you decide to get me to twist up into a bow." 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "There's no upside to hurting you like that," he said quietly. 

"I know. I trust you," Bard assured him. 

Thranduil smiled a bit. Bard smiled back at him before heading towards the kitchen and ushering the blond along with him. 

Inside the other room, the men saw Thranduil's son stirring what seemed to be a pot of soup while Bard's children sat around the table. The four of them seemed to be getting along well. When Elrond joined them, Legolas served up bowls of soup with the promise that there would be more food ready for after the fitness class. 

"You guys shouldn't wait," Bard insisted. 

"We are going to watch a movie," Legolas replied. "We probably won't even notice you're gone." 

Bard huffed out a little laugh. "Well, alright then." 

"Unless you want us to come cheer you on," Sigrid added teasingly. 

Bard laughed more. "No, thanks, love," he replied. "I think I can do without an audience for this." 

"We'll make sure the couch is clear for you to stretch out on when you get back," Bain joked. 

Bard grinned. "Yeah? Thanks, son. I'm glad I won't have to fight anyone for it when Thran's class is over. Big relief." 

They continued to joke and talk lightly as they ate their soup. Gandalf came in and joined them; he indicated that he would be staying at the house but would be catching up on some reading that evening. He, too, carried on the light-spirited conversation. By the time they'd changed into comfortable clothing and headed to their coats and boots, Thranduil, Elrond, and Bard were still smiling and chuckling a little. 

There were only three other students in the heated viewing room. Lindir was the only one Bard knew by name, but he recognised the other two as the girls from Legolas's second class that day. 

Thranduil toed out of his knee-high winter boots once he closed the door behind them. Bard noticed how long the blond's legs looked in leggings, but he gave himself a mental shake and turned to study his surroundings. 

A few padded mats were rolled up and resting on the table that had been pushed to the far wall (along with the room's chairs). Lindir and Elrond were taking off their coats and boots; the other students were following their lead, so Bard decided to do the same. 

"Everyone take a mat," Thranduil instructed. He had two rolls in his arms. "Find a place where you can move without crashing into someone." 

The blond went to Bard and passed him one of the rolls. "Come up near me," he murmured. "Alright? That way I can keep an eye---"

"And catch me if I fall over?" 

"Maybe," Thranduil teased. 

Bard chuckled. 

Thranduil turned his attention to the others. He smiled. "I'm not going to get into names of positions, I'm not going to try to get you guys to locate your third eye or top secret sunshine chakra or anything else you might be nervous about.

"After my accident, I started taking yoga and pilates to regain strength and balance," he said, his smile fading. "I have a routine I continue to do, to keep it up, and some of that might be useful to you guys, so I'm going to walk you through an abbreviated routine." He looked around the group. "Any questions?" 

"Um... what sort of skill level should we have?" one of the girls asked. 

"You survived my son's class today?" 

She nodded and smiled. 

Thranduil smiled back at her. "You should be fine. Some people here have never done anything like this before, some people have. I'm not going to take you through my full routine. It's going to be something closer to what I did when I started out." 

"Whew." 

Bard smiled at the girl, who looked very relieved. She smiled back and then spent a few minutes setting up her mat near her friend. Bard did the same, making sure his mat was near Thranduil's and Elrond seemed to do the same. 

Thranduil tugged off his sweater. Lindir took off his cardigan, too. 

"So, before we get started, stand on the mat and take a deep breath," Thranduil instructed. He demonstrated, illustrating to them that his inhalation started in his belly. Then, while they mimicked his actions, he said: "And if anyone needs a break for any reason, feel free. There's water in the fridge in the corner and it's better to stop or slow down if you're uncomfortable." 

Bard made a half-hearted move towards the fridge. Thranduil snapped his fingers at him and pointed to his mat. 

"You, stay put." 

"I'll, uh, safeword if I'm in trouble, then?" 

Thranduil grinned as Elrond laughed. "Sure," the blond said, surprise and good humour in his voice. "Stoplight colours? Unless you have a specific word in mind..." 

"Stoplight colours work," Bard replied, knowing enough to catch on to Thranduil's meaning. 

Thranduil's grin sharpened momentarily before softening to a smile that he turned onto the rest of the group. 

"Everyone stand near the front of your mat, feet shoulder-width apart," he instructed, "and just take a few minutes and breathe and relax." 

He moved into position as everyone else did. He shook out his arms and rolled his head from side to side. Bard glanced around and saw the others were following Thranduil's lead; he exhaled and joined them. He stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. He took a few deep breaths and willed himself to relax. 

"Alright," Thranduil spoke quietly. He shook out his arms again before bringing his hands up to his chest; he pressed his palms together. "Follow my lead, bring your hands up like mine," he said. "Try to keep your forearms level. If you find they're sloping down, move your hands up. If it feels like they're sloping up or if your wrists hurt, bring your hands down. 

"Now, bring your chin down to your chest. Slowly. If you can't go all the way, go as far as you can without forcing it," the blond continued. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath." 

Bard obeyed. With his eyes closed, with Thranduil talking, it was easy to imagine he wasn't in front of others trying something completely out of his comfort zone. 

Thranduil talked them through another few deep breaths. Then, he told them to open their eyes---slowly---and to lower their arms, palms facing forward, to their sides. 

"Stand taller with every breath," Thranduil advised. "Imagine a string pulling you up if that helps. Or, imagine pushing up from the ground, like a growing tree, if that's easier. Feel your torso opening up, your spine stretching...

"And now," he continued, matching his next words with actions, "take a breath and bring your hands out and then up over your head. Palms together, fingers pointing at the ceiling." 

Bard swung his arms out, moving his hands above his head. He got himself into a position that he thought resembled the one Thranduil had taken. 

"Breathe in," the blond said, "and lean to the right." 

Bard tried. Thranduil looked at him and nodded slightly. He looked over at Elrond, gave another small nod, and then he gazed beyond them. 

"Try to pivot from the hips, keeping your lower body from bowing out," he advised. He straightened; everyone else straightened with him. "And let's go the other way, too." 

Thranduil had them repeat the side-to-side movements another time, still as slow, instructing them to inhale as they moved to centre and to exhale as they crossed over to the other side. 

"And now exhale and bring your hands down," Thranduil said. "Pause, start to inhale and bring your arms up again.

"And exhale and bring them down, bend forward at the waist and bring your arms out like wings," he continued. "Keep your spine parallel to the floor and bend your legs. If you feel unstable, widen your stance. 

"Move your hands forward and down, toward the floor. Bend a little in the knees. Press your palms to your shins.

"And now, we're going to put our hands down on the mat and step into a sort of plank position," Thranduil said as he moved down to the floor. "Watch and follow my lead." 

Bard looked forward and observed his friend put some weight on his hands; he stepped back one foot at a time and stayed on the balls of his feet with his arms straight and hands firmly planted on the mat. And then he tried to repeat the motion. 

As he settled into the new position, he heard a female squeak and a scuffle, followed by a pair of giggles. Bard saw Thanduil's eyebrows furrow for a moment, before his facial expression smoothed. 

"If you can't get there right away, don't worry. It's tricky," he told the girls. 

Once they were settled, Thranduil guided them closer to the floor, with their elbows bent, and them back up, with their bodies curved so their torsos were upright with their legs out behind them. 

Bard had to fight to rein in the urge to grunt; he wasn't used to bending and balancing that way. 

When Thranduil instructed them to inhale and push themselves up into a position that basically had them forming a triangle with the ground, Bard had to rein in the urge to curse at his friend. 

"I know this is tough, but try to hold your spines and knees straight," Thranduil said. 

He didn't sound taxed at all. Bard risked tipping his head up so he could look at (and admire) his friend's strength and grace. Thranduil looked perfectly relaxed; his limbs were straight and his hair had fallen over his head and neck to pool on his mat. Bard felt as though he would fall over if someone tapped him and he knew his hair was a tangled mess. He was in awe of Thranduil's grace; he looked away so he wouldn't become much more distracted and risk falling out of position. 

"Now, slowly rock it out," Thranduil instructed. "Don't bounce, just bend one knee forward and then the other. Keep your hips straight if you can. 

"Look forward and step up to your hands," he continued. Everyone obeyed at staggered times. "Keep your legs bent and move your spine so it's level with the floor again. 

"Arms out to the sides, look forward, and keep your arms out as we straighten up." 

Thranduil brought his hands up, over his head, and he talked them back into that familiar position. 

"Let's repeat that cycle," Thranduil said. 

Bard found it easier the second time, to lower down, to go into what Thranduil called a plank position. He didn't struggle as much with the back arching or the movement back into the uncomfortable triangle, either. 

"Alright," Thranduil said once they were standing up again. "Let's go back down, bend your knees, hands on your shins and then the ground, step back into our plank position..." he trailed off as he followed his instructions and acted as an example. 

"And when you get there, take a breath and lift your right foot off the mat. Try keeping your hips level as you lift your leg." 

Bard fought against the instinct to fall. When Thranduil told them to move into that triangle position again---but with their right legs extended, following the line of their spines---he cursed under his breath. 

"Saying 'yellow,' Bard?"

He snorted. "Not quite yet." 

"Good. I like a man with stamina," he teased. 

Bard blinked, surprised. When he looked at Thranduil, the other man was grinning again. He smiled back at Thranduil, until a question from Lindir interrupted their moment. 

After Thranduil answered his question, he told them to go back into the plank position. A minute later, he was telling them to lift their left leg and then he was guiding them through the same movements on the other side of the body. 

"Great, guys," Thranduil praised them. "Now, lower your leg, go back into plank.

"Lower down to the ground, bending your elbows. Extend your legs behind you, rest the tops of your feet on the ground. Curve up, face and heart towards the ceiling," he said. 

Bard didn't mind the stretch in his spine at all that time. 

He did mind the triangle position, though. When Thranduil told them to bend their knees and lower them to the ground, he was relieved. 

His relief was temporary. The next plank pose was lower to the ground, with elbows and forearms on the ground. After that, there was another (smaller, uneven) triangle, with arms in the same bent position. 

Thranduil had them move back up to their hands and knees, with their spines straight. 

"And now inhale, and bend your spine as you look up," the blond said. "Hold for a moment and exhale, rounding your back up and tipping your head down. 

"Let's do that two more times...

"And one more...

"And straighten," he said. He must have looked up because his next words were some of praise. "You all look great. Let's push back up into downward dog for a minute. Hips even, back and legs as straight as you can manage." 

Bard grunted as he raised himself back into that damned triangle position. 

"And slowly descend onto your knees," Thranduil instructed. "And when you're settled, lift and extend your right leg behind you. Try to rotate your leg so your knee and foot are facing the ground, if you feel like you're twisting. 

"Hold that, inhale, and when you exhale, swing and fold your leg forward. Curl with your abdominal muscles. Hold that, inhale, and push your leg back. Extend your spine again," he continued. "And we're going to repeat that. 

"In...

"And out..." 

He had them do that several times before putting their right knees back on the ground. Then, Thranduil had them raise and extend their left legs to repeat the same sequence on the other side. 

When Thranduil requested that they reform that (still damned) triangle and extend their right leg up, a couple people grumbled. Thranduil chuckled and told them they'd be repeating that curl and extend exercise from that pose. 

After the third extension, Thranduil told them to curl the raised knee over their hips towards their other side, in imitation of a scorpion tail. Bard felt sweat running along his spine and pooling between his shoulder blades. He was actually relieved when Thranduil had them put their leg down again---until he realised they'd be repeating that series of movements on the left side. 

"Good work, everyone," Thranduil murmured. "Let's walk it forward like we've done before... we're almost finished, I promise.

"Straighten your spine... arms out to the sides. And come up slowly, extending your arms over your heads." 

Bard followed Thranduil's instructions, breathing a sigh of relief once he was no longer precariously bent over the ground. Thranduil smiled at him; he smiled back. 

"Palms together, bring them down to your chest. Breathe slowly, evenly." 

Bard closed his eyes. Thranduil had them relax their arms, lower them, and swing them back up. After he told them to bring their pressed-together palms to their chests again, he announced that they were finished. 

Everyone clapped, applauding Thranduil for his efforts. Bard opened his eyes and grinned at the man. 

Elrond stepped up to the front of the room. 

"Thanks, everyone, and thank you, Thranduil, for an interesting class," he said. He put his hand on Thranduil's shoulder in an affectionate, familiar gesture. "Hopefully you'll all join us for the next session, on Wednesday, at the same time. And if you need water, help yourself to a bottle in the fridge." 

Bard bent down, gathered his mat, and straightened up as he rolled it back into the bundle he'd been given. When he fastened it closed, he looked up and found Thranduil in front of him. 

"You survived." 

He chuckled. "Yeah... barely, but, yeah." 

Thranduil smiled. "You seemed to be handling it fine." 

"You were watching me?"

"Of course," the blond replied. "You ready to head back to the house?" 

"Think you can carry me there?"

Thranduil grinned. "No, but I promise to call for help if you fall on the way." 

"I'll lock up if you two want to head back," Elrond said, cutting in before Bard could say anything to the other man. 

Thranduil nodded. His old friend smiled. 

"Yep, let's get me home before I seize up," Bard joked. 

The blond rolled his eyes and dragged Bard over to their boots and coats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this until after work, but I couldn't resist sneaking in and adding it early. Hope you like it! 
> 
> Also, I apologise. It's been a very long time since I've done any sort of fitness class. I liked the idea of bendy!Thran and wanted to pursue it, so I had to borrow from a few different videos for reference material. And I purposely kept it as vague as I could. I am not an expert. (Or even a beginner.) And I do not want to offend anyone with my watercolour-ish descriptions. Also, I am not subscribing to a method or style of bending and stretching, nor am I suggesting that anyone jump into this stuff---or start doing one of these videos without checking into their needs, fitness level, etc. That being said, here are the links to the videos I used as reference: [01](http://youtu.be/K7Sn1lL3AfQ), [02](http://youtu.be/A_uQ_PIVXpQ), and [03](http://youtu.be/dZveGs7Udaw).
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the yoga class and through the next day, Bard and Thranduil grow closer and become more comfortable with each other. Elrond and Tilda butt into their developing relationship, too.

Bard tucked his face into the warmth near his chin. It was soft and smooth; it smelled of spice and sweetness. He sighed happily, drowsily, and allowed himself to drift through the luxurious feeling of waking up without the jarring assistance of an alarm. He tightened his hold on that warm weight---heavier than but as long as a blanket---and relaxed into the warmth around him. 

When his sort-of blanket tightened its hold on him, he wanted to look at see into what sort of situation he'd drifted, but the peace and quiet and security were difficult to escape. He didn't want to escape, not really. He'd been having one of those delicious, after-supper naps that were so rare in his life. He wanted to continue to enjoy it. He slid his hand up over the weight on him and felt a slight movement in the mass before his hand moved into the smoothest, softest strands he'd ever touched. 

Sleepily intrigued, he brushed his fingers through them, repeatedly. 

A loud, pleased vibration rumbled through the weight on top of him and settled in his chest. 

Bard froze and opened one eye. He was in the living room. The television was on; the DVD player was stopped on the disc menu. The lights were off, so the room was dimly lit by the images on the screen.

A blond head was resting on him.

A blond head meant there was a tall, slender body resting on (and snugly around) him, too. 

"Don't stop," Thranduil whispered in a whiny, sleepy voice. 

"But---"

"You were enjoying it, and I---" he broke off to yawn "---was definitely enjoying it." 

"What... how..."

"We must have fallen asleep. The movie's over. The house is... quiet. Good. Back to sleep. Shh shhh." 

Bard groaned. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Thranduil asked. After he asked the question, he turned his head and shifted. In the dimly lit den, Bard could see the blond had moved to look at him. He felt his face flushing under Thranduil's scrutiny. The other man's eyebrows lifted. "Do you think I'm ashamed of---"

"No, no," Bard interjected quickly, feeling even more out of his comfort zone than he had in the yoga class earlier that evening. 

"Are you ashamed?"

"No!" Bard insisted. 

Thranduil smiled. "Alright then. So why are you apologising?" he asked. When Bard hesitated, he grinned. "It just happened. We were sitting, watching a movie, and obviously we drifted off and ended up this way. You didn't do anything wrong." 

Bard blushed. "I shouldn't have groped you while you were sleeping," he mumbled. 

Thranduil's smile stretched into a grin. "You are so sweet." 

"Thran..." 

"Groped," the blond repeated, chuckling a little. "You're adorable." He leaned up and looked into Bard's eyes. "For the record, you can play with my hair any time you want. Alright?" 

Bard nodded. 

Thranduil shifted and raised his hand. "May I?" 

He nodded again. 

The other man reached out. He brushed his fingers over Bard's head, through his curls. Bard tried to resist how good it felt, but after a few passes of Thranduil's hand, he was closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. It had been a long time since he'd been touched like that---and since he'd wanted to be touched like that, too. 

"Feels good, right?" Thranduil asked. 

Bard nodded. Thranduil smiled and settled back down against Bard's body. He kept his hand in Bard's hair. 

"What are we doing?" Bard asked. 

He was fairly certain male friends didn't usually take naps together. He felt adrift. He didn't want to ruin whatever sort of moment they were having---because, despite the confusion, it felt _good_ \---but he needed to know he wasn't imagining whatever it was they were doing. 

"You'll figure it out," Thranduil murmured. "In the meantime, just know I'm not going anywhere." 

As vague as his response was, Bard found it reassuring. He sighed and rubbed the other man's back in long, slow strokes. 

"One more nap," he said, "an hour tops." 

"Sounds good," Thranduil whispered. 

"Just because I'm a little sore from your class, and this couch is really comfortable," he continued. 

The blond draped over him chuckled. 

&&&

"You were up early today." 

Bard turned and saw Elrond. The owner of Rivendell joined him at the gate's rail and they shared a smile. 

"Woke up refreshed. Thought I'd get an early start on the day," he explained. 

Elrond nodded. "You weren't too sore from the evening class and sleeping on the sofa?" 

Bard chuckled and ducked his head. His children hadn't (yet) said anything about his falling asleep during the movie, but he'd known he wouldn't go through the day without hearing something from somebody. 

"No, that couch is pretty comfortable," he admitted. 

Elrond laughed quietly. "It is," he agreed. "I think I've succumbed to its comforts a few times, too." 

Bard smiled and lifted his head to watch Legolas' first class continue. Elrond seemed contentedly quiet, but when he inhaled slowly, Bard knew to steel himself for a more pointed conversation. 

"He doesn't let people in," Elrond said quietly. "Not usually. Not since... well, we all have our histories." 

"We do," Bard said, taking his turn to agree. 

"You have not known him as long as I have," Elrond admitted. "You do not see the change in him. And you do not recognise the signs." 

"This really isn't any of your---"

"He is my brother, by choice," Elrond interrupted. "I see you two together, and I see his hope increase. I like you, Bard, but I've asked around, discretely, and you've never been seen romantically involved with another man. I will not sit back to watch as you experiment with him." 

Bard frowned. "Is this the part where you tell me they won't find my body if I hurt him?" 

"Something like that, yes," the other man replied. 

"I like you, too, Elrond, so please don't take this the wrong way," Bard said, doing his best to keep a surprising (to him) need to growl at bay, "but back off and let us sort things out for ourselves." 

He turned around and walked out of the entrance to the indoor arena. He rounded the corner to go to the barn's exit and saw Thranduil standing there. The blond's cheeks were flushed; when he saw Bard, his eyes widened and he looked scared, though Bard couldn't figure out why. 

"Hey," he murmured. 

"I'm sorry about Elrond---"

"He cares about you," Bard interrupted. "Don't worry about it." 

"You were brave, telling him off like that." 

The reiner chuckled. "You liked that?" 

"Maybe a little too much," the blond admitted. He seemed to relax when he looked at Bard and saw him smiling. "He's protective. Too much so, sometimes, but... he's family." 

Bard smiled. "I get it," he said quietly. He grinned. "Will I have to fend off Legolas later?"

Thranduil chuckled and shook his head. "Probably not. He prefers to wait until the worst happens and then launch a stealth attack." 

"You're warning me." 

"I'm fond of your face the way it's currently arranged." 

Bard laughed softly, as his face grew warm. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I... that's good?"

Thranduil smiled at Bard. "Coffee?" he asked. 

"Sounds good. Here, or at the house?"

"House," the blond decided after a minute of consideration. "Unless you want to stay and watch---"

"House sounds good. Warmer. Lead the way." 

&&&

 

"Da?"

Bard turned back into the bedroom his children were sharing. Tilda was the only one in bed, as Bain and Sigrid were still up drinking hot chocolate in the kitchen, and Finn was tucked in at her side. He smiled at his youngest child. 

"What's on your mind, darling?" 

"Is Thranduil your boyfriend?"

Bard felt like he'd choked on everything he wasn't eating. "Why would you ask that?" he asked once he'd finished silently sputtering. 

"Because he smiles at you when you're not looking, and you smile at him when he's not looking," she explained. "And your face does something funny if you catch each other looking." 

"Oh, does it?" 

She smiled and nodded. "You turn pink. You don't usually do that." 

Bard chuckled. "Well, sometimes grown-ups do funny things," he told her. "Thranduil and I are friends," he said, feeling a little like a cad for oversimplifying their relationship, "and I like him a lot. But, it's been a long time since I've been anyone's boyfriend and I don't know if I'm ready for that." 

"You should tell him." 

"What I just told you?" 

"The you liking him bit. He'd like to hear that." 

Bard gently tapped his daughter's nose. "Did Sigrid put you up to this?" 

Tilda grinned. "Nope." 

"So this is all you, huh?"

She nodded. Bard chuckled. He smoothed her hair off of her face and lowered his head to kiss her forehead. "If anything changes in my life, you know I'd tell you and Bain and Sigrid when it's a sure thing," he assured her when he sat up again. "I'm a lousy secret keeper." 

"You like him a lot, though, right?" Tilda asked. 

He knew he was blushing but he didn't look away from his daughter's face, even though her eagerness made him uneasy. "Tilda... it's complicated." 

"You really think so?" she asked. "Dad. Stop being silly. It's not compl'cated at all." 

She sounded so much like her sister (and their mother) that he had to wonder if that tone of voice was a genetic quirk his girls had inherited from Lily. He sat back and toyed with the quilt on the bed.

"Daddy?"

"You just reminded me of your mum for a minute," he said, smiling a little.

Tilda frowned. "Is it because you still love Mum so much that you're not telling Thranduil that you like him?" 

"No, darling," Bard murmured. 

"Do you miss her?"

"Every day," he admitted. "But, she wouldn't want us sitting around being sad. She'd be so cranky if she thought you were worried about that," he said with another smile. His smile stretched when Tilda smiled again, too. "She'd want all four of us to be happy, Tilda. She'd want us to have friends." 

"And a boyfriend?"

"Or a girlfriend, sure," Bard agreed. 

"You haven't been very good at that." 

He tapped her nose. "I haven't been ready for that for a long time." 

"Are you now?"

"I don't know, darling," he said honestly. 

"But... but---"

"Hey," he interrupted gently, "I'm alright. And I love our life. I am the luckiest man in the world to have you and your brother and sister, did you know that?" When she shook her head, he leaned down and blew a raspberry against her cheek. He took comfort and delight in her drowsy laughter. "So, does that answer all your questions?"

"All but one." 

"Alright. Let's have it." 

She sucked in a deep breath and after exhaling in a rush, she continued hurrying through her words. "Will you please tell Thranduil you like him---and I know you do, Daddy---because I think he needs to know something good." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "He's got sadness in him. Deep down. I like him... and I know you can make 'im feel better." 

"You are so sweet," he murmured. He smiled. "I'm his friend, I don't want to see him hurting." 

"Good." 

He leaned down and kissed her again. "Sweet dreams, darling," he murmured. "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs for a bit." 

She nodded. 

"I love you, baby girl." 

"I love you, too, Daddy," she whispered. 

&&&

 

He'd been sitting in the den reading for barely twenty minutes, when Thranduil appeared in the doorway with two mugs in his hands. Bard looked up and smiled. The words he'd told his daughter he'd share were on the tip of his tongue, but he was too unsure of the situation to simply blurt them out. 

The blond smiled back and spoke before he could. "Your kids get to bed okay?" Thranduil asked. 

Bard nodded. "Yep. They don't usually require much wrangling, although Tilda decided to interrogate me after tucking her in," he told the other man. He motioned to the mugs. "Is one of those for me?" 

"Maybe." 

The reiner grinned. He adjusted his position and beckoned his friend over. Thranduil came easily, settling down against his side and passing over one of the mugs. 

"Mmm... cider," Bard whispered happily. "I thought I smelled something spiced earlier." 

"I made some that can be reheated tomorrow, during lessons, in case anyone needs warming up," the blond explained. "It's supposed to be colder tomorrow."

"You're so thoughtful," Bard complimented him. 

"Or self-serving." 

Bard chuckled. "There's nothing that says you can be both," he decided. He sipped from the mug. "This is delicious. Thank you." 

"What are you reading?" 

As he took another sip of the cider, he held up the book. Thranduil took one look at the cover and looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "You don't get enough Harry Potter during the day?" 

He laughed again. "Well, yes, but we haven't gotten to the last book yet," he explained. "I want to make sure it's okay for Tilda to read." 

"Read it to me?"

Bard smiled. "Sure. I finished the first chapter already... but I can go back if---"

"No, no," Thranduil interrupted. "You just keep going. I can't imagine I missed that much." 

He set down his mug of cider and settled into a reclining position. Once he stopped moving, his head was resting against Bard's arm and he'd stretched his legs out across the rest of the sofa. He huffed. He sat up again. He took Bard's mug from him, too, and put it by his on the coffee table. Then, he returned to his previous position and draped Bard's arm around his shoulder and chest. 

"Well?"

The darker man chuckled. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes," Thranduil replied. The blond man closed his eyes and sighed. "Start reading." 

With another little huff of laughter, Bard turned his attention back to the open book. 

"'Chapter Two,'" he read aloud, "'In Memoriam.'

"'Harry was bleeding. Clutching his right hand in his left and swearing under his breath, he shouldered open his bedroom door. There was a crunch of breaking chine: he had trodden on a cup of cold tea that been sitting on the floor outside his bedroom do---'"

"Well," Thranduil interrupted, "that was dumb." 

Bard rolled his eyes. "Yes, quite possibly," he agreed. 

"Continue." 

With a snort, Bard did as he was told. "'He looked around,'" Bard said, continuing to read, "'the landing of number four, Privet Drive, was deserted. Possibly the cup of tea was Dudley's idea of a clever booby trap.'" He paused when Thranduil snorted, but he pressed on with the story. "'Keeping his bleeding hand elevated, Harry scraped the fragments of cup together with the other hand and threw them into the already crammed bin just visible inside his bedroom door. Then he tramped across to the bathroom to run his fingers under the tap.'

"'It was stupid, pointless, irritating beyond belief, that he still had four days left of being unable to perform magic... but he had to admit to himself that this jagged cut in his finger would have defeated him. He had never learned how to repair wounds and now he came to think of it---particularly in light of his immediate plans---this seemed a serious flaw in his magical education. Making a mental note to ask Hermione how it was done, he used a large wad of toilet paper to mop up as much of the tea as he could, before returning to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.' 

"'Harry had spent the morning completely emptying his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom---old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fitted. Minutes previously Harry had plunged his hand into this mulch, experienced a stabbing pain in the fourth finger of his right hand and withdrawn it to see a lot of blood---'"

"Oh honestly, what an idiot," Thranduil muttered. "He deserved it. Not even shifting it around with a pencil or something first... anything could have been in there." 

Bard chuckled. Thranduil rubbed his arm. "Keep reading," he prompted. 

"'He now proceeded a little more cautiously. Kneeling down beside the trunk again, he groped around in the bottom and, after retrieving an old badge that flickered feebly between _Support CEDRIC DIGGORY_ and _POTTER STINKS_ , a cracked and worn-out Sneakoscope and a gold locket inside which a note signed "R.A.B." had been hidden, he finally discovered the sharp edege that had done the damage. He recognised it at once. It was a two-inch-long fragment of the enchanted mirror that his dead godfather, Sirius, had given him. Harry laid it aside and felt cautiously around the trunk for the rest, but nothing more remained of his godfather's last gift except powdered glass, which clung to the deepest layer of debris like glittering grit.'

"'Harry sat up and examined the jagged piece on which he had cut himself,'" Bard continued, pausing only for a moment to clear his throat, "'seeing nothing but his own bright green eye reflected back at him. Then he placed the fragment on top of that morning's _Daily Prophet_ , which lay unread on the bed, and attempted to stem the sudden upsurge of bitter memories, the stabs of regret and of longing the discovery of the broken mirror had occasioned, by attacking the rest of the rubbish in the trunk.'"

Thranduil stifled a yawn and shifted so his face was tucked into Bard's arm. He kept one of his hands curled around Bard's wrist, but there was no urgency in his grip. 

Bard kept on with the story. By the time Harry was finished reading the newspaper articles, it seemed that Thranduil had fallen asleep. He paused to study his snoozing friend, smiling a little as he snuffled quietly, and only resumed reading when he shifted and mumbled something under his breath. 

"'A flash of brightest blue,'" he said aloud, "'Harry froze, his cut finger slipping on the jagged edge of the mirror again...'"

Thranduil stilled and Bard smiled more. He finished the last paragraphs of the second chapter and moved onto the third. 

By the time he'd read to the fourth chapter, his hand had started moving in a slow, small back-and-forth pattern over Thranduil's sweater-covered chest. Thranduil's own hand was still curled around his wrist, a loose and warm point of contact. The sleeping man hummed quietly before his mouth slackened. Bard smiled down at the other man, glad he was awake to observe his friend this way; he was handsome, he would never be able to deny that, and without Thranduil's sharp gaze to catch him looking (because no matter how much he denied it, he did sometimes look and admire) he could look upon the blond man for as long as he liked. 

When he looked up, he saw Elrond standing in the doorway to the den. The man looked at them both, smiled at Bard, and turned to go down the hall that would take him to the master suite. 

The reiner wasn't sure what that meant---especially after Elrond's warning earlier that day---but since the man seemed to be a bit more accepting, he decided it wasn't a bad thing. After a wave to a passing, but also silent, Gandalf, who took the stairs to the floor where most of the guest bedrooms were located, Bard went back to the book. He continued to read aloud, but did so in a softer voice that was closer to a whisper than anything else. Every few minutes, he was interrupted by a quiet sound as Thranduil slept, and when he finished the end of the sixth chapter he decided he needed to sleep, too; he had to interrupt the blond's sleep so he wouldn't wake up later and wonder why he was alone. 

"Thran..." 

"Hmm?"

"Thran," Bard murmured. "Time to get up." 

"S'still dark out," he mumbled. 

"Yeah, but I'm going to bed and I don't want to leave you out here alone." 

"No one's gonna 'tack me in my sleep." 

Bard smiled. He didn't resist the impulse to brush his finger over the bridge of Thranduil's nose; he was rewarded for his action with a pretty cute wrinkle of Thranduil's nose in reaction. 

"I didn't want you to wake up later and wonder when I left," he said, clarifying his reason for waking him. "C'mon. We're both still in jeans and jods and---"

"My jods are stretchy and comfy," Thranduil interrupted quietly. "But, if you want to take off your Wranglers... go ahead." 

Bard chuckled. "C'mon, you," he insisted. "Get up." 

"How did the book end?" 

"I didn't even finish the chapter before you fell asleep. He cleaned out his trunk, and then I kept reading until chapter six." 

Thranduil huffed. He sat up, away from Bard, and glared at the book resting on the reiner's knee. He frowned. "It took him a whole chapter to clean out that trunk?"

"He's a very messy boy," Bard said to placate him. "C'mon." 

It took a few minutes, but he eventually got Thranduil on his feet. The man was clingy when he was sleepy; instead of being bothered by it, because he was unaccustomed to being wrapped in limbs as he walked, he found it endearing. He found he liked the softer side of Thranduil, when his defenses were down and no one else was around to see it. 

He managed to get Thranduil onto his bed, but getting away to go to his own bedroom seemed impossible. The sleepy man was reluctant to release him; no amount of cajoling could tempt Thranduil to unwind himself from Bard's body. 

"Stay here," Thranduil insisted. "You're comfy." 

Remembering how warm and comfortable their sleep on the sofa had been, Bard was tempted to accept the invitation. He thought of his children, though, and knew if they needed him, they wouldn't be able to find him easily. 

He sighed. "Maybe tomorrow night," he said quietly. 

"Why?"

When he told Thranduil his reason for declining the invitation to stay and sleep with him, the blond nodded and released him. 

"Very well. I'll make do without your body heat to keep me warm." 

Bard frowned. He shifted his weight and turned to leave. A stray thought drifted into his mind and could not be easily shoved aside. He blushed as he pondered the possibilities; he turned back and looked at the other man, who was eyeing him curiously. 

"I... well, you could... I mean, if you want to stay warm..." he tried to suggest, the words getting stuck somewhere between his mind and his throat. 

"Yes?"

"You could come to my room?" Bard said after being prompted. 

Thranduil smiled. The expression was small, but it lit up his eyes. Any nervousness Bard was feeling relaxed as he took in the sight. 

"I'll be over in a little while. Just let me change for bed." 

Bard nodded, smiling, and left the bedroom to go to his own. He ducked into the bathroom across the hall after grabbing his shaving kit. He preferred to shower at night---a habit that kept him out of the way of his children when they tried to get ready for school, but one that also allowed his hair to dry before cooler days---and decided to take a quick one to clear his head as well as to stick to his usual routine. 

He was nervous. The first time they slept together, it had been an enjoyable accident, but that night it would be intentional. He knew he was a grown man who had nothing to prove (not really) and he would not do anything he wasn't ready to do; but he also knew that inviting Thranduil to share his (temporary) bed was a step towards something beyond simple friendship. 

He realised he couldn't deny he felt something for the other man. The time he spent at Rivendell was illuminating in that way, showing Bard that the nervousness he'd been feeling had a source; with every moment he and Thranduil shared, his want to protect and know the other man grew. Thranduil was showing a side of himself he believed few got to see and he was honoured to be included in that circle. 

But those feelings didn't mean he was ready for more---or that he knew what to do when that time came. 

Bard groaned and finished rinsing his hair clean of suds before scrubbing his body. He looked down and studied his form as he washed. He knew he wasn't unfortunate looking; he also knew he wasn't in the same league as Thranduil. 

"Get a grip," he muttered under his breath. 

He finished his shower and dried off. He wrapped his towel around his waist. Then, he brushed his teeth. 

Assuming he'd only have a couple more minutes before Thranduil joined him, he grabbed his things and padded back to his bedroom. After tugging on a pair of pyjama bottoms, he set his dirty clothes and damp towel on the floor next to his bag and put his shaving kit on the dresser. 

A soft, single knock was his only warning he was no longer alone. 

When he turned, tank top in hand, he saw Thranduil stepping inside his bedroom. He'd changed into looser clothing for sleep and had braided his hair. He closed the door behind him and smiled. Bard smiled back at him. 

"I got cold." 

Bard chuckled quietly. "Well, get under the covers," he suggested. "I'll be right there." 

Thranduil nodded. Bard turned his back and moved to put on the shirt, but a gentle touch to his back stopped him. Thranduil's hand was brushing over his skin, tracing patterns that Bard didn't understand---until it dawned on him that he was tracing over the scars from the car accident and subsequent surgery.  

He sighed. 

"Sorry---"

"No, no," Bard interrupted, before Thranduil could pull his hand away. "It's fine. I forgot they were there." 

"I didn't know..."

"I don't exactly go parading them around," Bard mumbled. He gasped when Thranduil found and traced over the scar that crossed along his side to end over his abdomen; he caught the other man's hand on reflex. "That tickles," he explained. 

An amused breath puffed against Bard's shoulder. 

Thranduil wriggled his fingers. Bard's belly tightened in reaction. 

"Alright, imp, get into bed," he growled. 

Thranduil pressed his forehead into the top of Bard's spine for a moment, before pulling away and slipping out of his grasp. Bard took the opportunity to tug his shirt over his head; when he turned to the bed, Thranduil was pulling back the covers. 

There was no discussion about what side each man wanted. Bard climbed into the right side, but inched towards the middle; Thranduil turned off the light on the bedside table and curled into his body from the left side. It felt surprisingly natural. For a minute, they were quiet, listening to each other's breathing, but Bard indirectly broke the silence by tucking his face into Thranduil's hair, pressing a kiss there, and surprisingly (to Bard) inspiring Thranduil to give a little purring sound in reponse. 

"Sweet dreams, Thran," Bard whispered. 

"You, too," the other man whispered back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... no smooching yet. Soon, I hope! 
> 
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted. I have a feeling I have a busy work week ahead of me. *scrunchyface* 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day starts off pleasantly, but doesn't end that way.

The day started on an incredibly pleasant note. 

Bard was curled around Thranduil and holding him close. Bard had slept soundly, so much so that his drowsiness was not a weary struggle to escape but an enjoyable journey to savour on the way to alertness. He'd been on his side, face tucked into the back of the blond's neck and arm wrapped around the blond's torso; the man in his hold was pressed against him, relaxed and warm. He realised Thranduil was awake, too, when he took Bard's hand and kissed its palm. Bard replied by brushing his fingers over Thranduil's sleep-chapped lips.

"Not freaking out, then?" Thranduil whispered. 

"No," Bard whispered back. "Why would I?"

"Because you're in bed with a man?"

Bard chuckled into Thranduil's braid. "I knew I was in bed with a man before I fell asleep. Nothing's changed, right?"

"No, I'm still me." 

"Good," the reiner mumbled gruffly, rubbing his face sleepily between Thranduil's shoulder blades. The blond tensed and snuffled. Bard, curious by the response, repeated his actions. Thranduil's snuffles escalated to giggles. Bard grinned. "Ticklish?"

"N-no!" Thranduil gasped. "Your face is just extra scratchy!" 

Bard laughed and rubbed his cheek over the parts of Thranduil's back that were exposed through his loose, sleeveless shirt. Thranduil bucked against him, but he was still giggling, so he pressed on. When the wriggling blond squealed into his pillow, seemingly on overload, Bard slowed the rubbing of his face against the other man's skin to a barely rhythmic, drawn out slide. Thranduil's body shuddered and went still. 

"Good morning," Bard whispered. 

"Morning," Thranduil murmured back. 

The reiner eased off of the other man's body, as they'd ended up turned more on their fronts than their sides after that little scuffle, but he didn't separate from him completely. He stroked a hand down Thranduil's spine; Thranduil, in response, purred and arched into the touch. 

Bard smiled up at the ceiling. Knowing Thranduil wanted contact with him, and seemed to luxuriate in it, was more intoxicating than it was nerve-wracking. He closed his eyes; he felt Thranduil move closer. When he opened his eyes again, the blond was turned towards him, watching him with raised eyebrows and nibbling his lower lip. He looked uncertain; seeing the expression on his face made Bard's stomach flop. 

"What is it, Thran?"

"It's... it's nothing." 

Bard frowned. It might not have been a big deal, but whatever it was... it was weighing on his mind. With his persistent caretaker instincts taking over, he pulled Thranduil closer. He protested, but Bard didn't back off. 

"Tell me," he said. 

Thranduil's chin tucked down. 

"I'll ruin it, if I say something."

"Thran, just tell me. I promise, you won't ruin anything." 

The blond sighed. "I just... I really liked waking up with you," he admitted quietly. 

The tense fluttering in Bard's guts immediately dissipated. "Oh. Good," he breathed. 

Thranduil frowned. "What were you expecting?"

Bard shrugged. "I don't know. I thought maybe you were gonna kick me out of bed or tell me I'd overstepped or---" 

"Idiot," Thranduil murmured. 

"Right back atcha," he replied. 

The blond smiled. Then, he draped himself more comfortably over Bard's torso. "Stop talking," he mumbled. "I'm going back to sleep." 

"Well, I'm getting up to help feed---"

"But you helped feed last night," Thranduil whined. "Staaaaaaaay in bed. Elrond won't caaaaaare." 

He continued to moan and whine as he wrapped his limbs around Bard's body. The reiner couldn't have left the bed even if he'd been desperate to do so; he had a tall, strong body effectively pinning him to the mattress and thoroughly restricting his movement. 

"It's not even five, Bard. Five. You can sleep until seven. With me. All warm and cosy and---"

"You could get up with me, instead." 

"Ugh. Stop talking." 

Bard laughed softly. 

"Shush." 

Deciding it would be easier (and probably better in general) to give in to Thranduil's demand, he relented. First, he stopped struggling, and then he told Thranduil he'd stay if he stopped impersonating an octopus. Thranduil grinned at him as he eased off his Bard's body and settled back in at its side. He was facing him, his face tucked into Bard's shoulder. 

Bard gave into the impulse to turn his head into Thranduil's hair. He inhaled, smelled the sweetness and spice he'd come to associate with Thranduil, and closed his eyes. 

"You're alright with staying in bed?" 

The darker man chuckled. "Yes," he replied. "Now, shhh." 

They drowsed together, barely moving, until Thranduil's phone beeped. He groaned and reached behind him for the device. It took three tries, but eventually, he snagged it. Bard watched him squint at it; he nearly laughed when he moved it towards his face and then away from his face. He did laugh when Thranduil grunted and turned the display towards him. 

_I do hope you're both planning on getting out of bed at some point._

"Elrond thinks he's so clever," Thranduil grouched. 

"Five more minutes," Bard said, "and then we'll spring into action." 

"Mmm, good plan." 

In truth, they took an additional fifteen minutes, but no one complained. Thranduil went to have a shower and get dressed; Bard put on some warm clothes and headed downstairs to the kitchen. 

The morning continued (almost as) pleasantly, with an enthusiastic greeting from Tilda and Legolas, who were tugging on their outerwear---apparently to go to the barn and look at some of Elrond's ponies before Legolas' first lesson---and trying to avoid stepping on an eager Finn, a mug of coffee, and a quiet breakfast with his older children when they made an appearance. 

When Thranduil came downstairs, the blond put his hand on Bard's shoulder before saying 'good morning' to Sigrid and Bain. Bard gave the other man's hand a squeeze before returning his focus to his bagel. Thranduil joined them at the table with some fruit and yogurt, and the pleasantness continued. 

Bard's children spent the morning in the barn, but Bard stayed in the house to stay warm as long as he could. That was why he told himself he stayed. Truthfully, he wanted to stay a bit longer in Thranduil's company. When the blond prepared to go teach his class, they shared another squeeze of hands; Bard tried to commit to memory the way Thranduil's smile curved his lips and flush coloured his cheeks. 

His day continued, with stolen looks and secret smiles between his lessons and the chores. When they went inside at the end of the day, he took pleasure in the way Thranduil let him tug off his coat and scarf; he blushed when he thought about removing more and Thranduil laughed, quietly, as if he knew what Bard was contemplating. Bard didn't shy away from the laughter and insinuation, though, as he usually did; instead, he grinned back at the other man, feeling lighter than he had the whole week, comforable in the knowledge that Thranduil wouldn't push him for more until he was sure and ready. 

When it was time to go to Thranduil's yoga class, though, there was a tension between them that hadn't been there before. Assuming, it was pre-class nerves, Bard didn't worry too much; but when they stepped outside he started to realise it may have been something else. 

"Why is Haldir here?" Thranduil asked Elrond as they walked down to the main barn. 

"I told you he was bringing his horse here while he was in Imladris for business." 

"You didn't tell me it would be this week!" Thranduil hissed. "Or that he, himself, would be here!" 

Elrond sighed. "It'll be fine. You don't have to talk to him." 

Bard frowned, but didn't say anything. He suspected that there was bad blood---perhaps of a romantic or sexual nature, given Thranduil's discomfort (though, he hoped not)---between Thranduil and the one they referred to as Haldir; still, he knew it wasn't his place to pry and he wanted to respect the blond's privacy. 

Instead, he put a supportive hand in the centre of Thranduil's lower back and kept pace with him as he marched resignedly into the barn. 

When they arrived in the viewing room, they discovered they were first to arrive. Thranduil busied himself with the closing of the blinds to the windows that looked out onto the indoor arena---but not before peeking out and growling under his breath---while Elrond and Bard took out the mats and moved the room's furniture to the walls. 

Bard glanced at the other man a few times, trying to see if he could judge how bad the situation was by the furrow between Elrond's brows, but the man was as calm and controlled as he usually was. 

He sighed and tugged off his boots. His jacket joined the others. Then, he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders in a bit of a warm-up as he waited for the others to arrive and for the class to start. 

Thranduil approached slowly. He put a hand on Bard's back and rubbed gently. 

"Thanks," he whispered. 

"For?"

"Coming back," he said, smiling. 

Bard smiled back at him. "Hey, I survived the first class. How hard could the second be?"

Thranduil's smile stretched into a grin. "You're lucky I like you. I could decide to be evil tonight." 

"If you do, your bed warmer might decide to sleep alone tonight." 

The blond's grin vanished. "Hrm. I didn't consider that." 

"You just keep that in mind." 

Thranduil nodded. Bard smiled. He felt an impulse to lean in and kiss the other man, but he reined it in; he knew things had changed between them, but he still wanted to take them slowly and he wanted to feel like he knew even a little of what he was doing. Expressing attraction (once he felt it), according to his late wife, had never been his strong suit, and he knew he'd gone about it the wrong way a few times. He wanted to think things through, figure out how to treat Thranduil, and go from there. A quick kiss with an audience of Elrond---and Lindir, he realised, as the door opened---was not the opening move he wanted to make. Especially when he wasn't sure what he was feeling and how much he was feeling. 

The others trailed into the room and Thranduil started the class as soon as everyone was settled. He took them through a similar routine to the one in the first class, but there were some changes and and he also carefully explained what each position and movement could do for one's riding. 

Much to Bard's embarrassment, Thranduil used him as an example several times. He'd approach, touch Bard's back or hips when he was in the taught position, and use his physiology to explain posture and technique. Broad, open shoulders meant a deep seat, which meant strong legs, which meant one's horse could carry itself better and move with more power; Thranduil illustrated examples and it seemed that some of the class began to better understand why different types of exercise were beneficial to improving in equestrian sports. Bard, though, felt a little out of sorts by the time they were finished. Each touch chipped away at his focus and frazzled his nerves; being the centre of attention didn't help, either. 

At the end of the class, everyone filed out the way they came in. Elrond left first that time, saying something about checking on a horse he'd ridden earlier that day. Bard helped Thranduil put the room back to rights. He could see the tension from earlier creeping back into his shoulders and face; he wanted to do something to fix it, to get rid of it like the exercise had. 

It took until they had their boots and coats back on, but he thought he figured it out. Before they left the room, he reached out and grabbed Thranduil's hand in his. 

"I..." he trailed off and sighed. He closed his eyes; his body relaxed, sagging a little into Bard's nearby form. "Thanks." 

"You gonna be alright?"

Thranduil nodded. 

Bard squeezed his hand. "Are you ready to go back up to the house? Tilda said something about Legolas ordering pizza." 

Thranduil winced. Bard chuckled. "C'mon, it won't be so bad," he insisted. 

"As long as there's wine." 

"I'm pretty sure there will be," Bard commented. 

The blond sighed. "Alright. Let's go." 

They hadn't been outside of the viewing room for more than a minute when a melodic male voice called out for Thranduil's attention. The source of the voice was the indoor arena. Bard could make out the figure of a lean man on a tall bay horse, but not much else thanks to the shadows around the gate. 

"Just... give me a minute?" Thranduil asked quietly. "I'd rather get this over with now." 

"I'll wait by the door," Bard replied. 

He squeezed Thranduil's hand once more before heading to the main exit. He leaned against the wall and waited. After a few minutes, he pulled his phone from his coat pocket and checked the time; after every few minutes, he checked the phone again. 

When fifteen minutes passed, Bard let his concern override his want to respect Thranduil's privacy. He went in search of the other man. 

He didn't see him by the gate, where the horse and rider had been earlier. However, as he neared the indoor arena, he heard sounds of Thranduil protesting and of the other man talking insistently over him. 

Bard cursed under his breath, not sure what he would see, and hurried his pace. 

When he peeked inside the arena, he growled. 

The other man---he assumed it was Haldir---was standing on the ground and cornering Thranduil. But, it wasn't to make a sexual advance. It seemed like he was trying to urge Thranduil onto his horse's back. He looked confident and sure. Thranduil, on the other hand, looked _petrified_ and was doing anything he could to keep Haldir from forcing him up into the saddle. 

"Hey!" Bard called out, before he was within grabbing distance. 

Haldir turned and tried to tell Bard they were just talking, but the reiner had arrived at that point. He pushed the other man back, towards the horse's head, and he put himself between Thranduil and the horse. 

"This isn't any of your business," Haldir insisted. 

"Thran is my business." 

"So, what, things sour between us and you run and find another top to hide behind?" Haldir asked the other blond. "I expect better from a sub of mine." 

"I'm not your sub!" Thranduil exclaimed. "I never have been, and I told you we were through!" 

Haldir shrugged. "Doesn't stop me from caring about you. From wanting you to do better." 

"He does fine, and you sure have a fucked up way of showing you care," Bard said crossly, speaking before Thranduil could. "Stay away from Thranduil." 

"I'm boarding here now," Haldir reminded Bard. "I will be around all the time." 

"Yeah? Well, it's a big place. Keep that in mind and keep your distance." 

"Or what?"

Bard snorted. He turned his attention to Thranduil, dismissing Haldir and his question. He didn't want to start levelling threats he couldn't follow through on after the end of the week---and honestly, he didn't think much of the man and didn't want him to think he was a big challenge. Thranduil was his priority and he endeavoured to make that obvious. 

Thranduil was still pale and shaky, but he looked a bit better. Bard nudged his chin with his fingers. He smiled when Thranduil smiled. 

"You ready to go back?" he asked. 

Thranduil nodded. He took Bard's hand in his. When the reiner walked off, he followed his lead but didn't drag behind; when they reached the gate, he turned around and glared at Haldir. 

"You ever try anything like that again..." he said, a snarl working its way into his voice. "You even touch me again, and _I'll_ make you regret it. I'm not like your other playmates. I don't need a dom to fight my battles for me."

"You used to trust me, Thranduil. I only wanted to give you a push, to help... Elrond said you weren't riding. It's a shame, you being out of the saddle." 

The man at Bard's side pressed his lips together when his lower lip trembled. 

"I would prefer it if you stay away for the rest of the week," Thranduil said quietly. 

He turned his back on Haldir, being just as dismissive as Bard had been earlier, and all but dragged Bard out of the arena and out of the barn. They made it as far as the farmhouse's porch before Thranduil's knees threatened to give out. Although he was surprised, Bard reacted quickly and supported him so he didn't fall. 

"Hey, hey," Bard murmured. "I've got you. You're alright." 

"Oh... hell. He had my leg in his hand at one point," Thranduil admitted. "He asked me to give my opinion on his new saddle. He was civil... I thought, perhaps Elrond would appreciate us not at each other's throats." 

Bard smiled a little at the other man's comment as he tucked into the side of his head. "What happened, after that?" Bard prompted. 

"I'd had my hands on the pommel and cantle*, getting a feel for the tree and seat," Thranduil whispered. "And he'd grabbed my leg and lifted." He sighed and put his arms around Bard's waist; Bard squeezed him as close as he could without seeming too desperate (he hoped, anyway). "I nearly fell. That's all that stopped him from throwing me over the saddle. I... I... it... I wasn't ready." 

"Did he ask you if you were?"

"No," the taller man said quietly. He shook his head. "He said I needed to just... push past it." 

"Fear doesn't always work that way," Bard murmured. He sighed. "I'm sorry that happened," he added quietly. "Consent's important." 

Bard leaned against the wall of the house, pulling Thranduil against him. 

"He said I'd be fine again once I got up there," he said, continuing to explain what had happened. "I got free, but he pushed it. Saying all the things he used to say and---oh, I was an idiot for getting so close to him again. I should have known better."

Not saying anything, because there was nothing he could say to fix things, Bard just continued to hold him close. 

"I'm sorry you had to step in," the blond whispered. 

"Don't apologise for that," Bard whispered back. "I want to apologise for not getting to you more quickly, though. I didn't know---"

"Exactly. You didn't know," Thranduil interrupted. "Don't apologise. You came in the nick of time and that's what matters." 

"Want to skip pizza?" Bard asked. "We could just head upstairs and---"

Thranduil shook his head. "No. I will take a minute to put myself back together but I am hungry. Even for pizza."

Bard smiled. "Alright. Let's go in and warm up. I'll see you in the kitchen?"

"Yes, please," the other man murmured. He stepped back as if to move to the door, but he returned to Bard's side and kissed his cheek. Before Bard could ask what he'd done to earn that, Thranduil smiled. "Thanks for being there for me," he whispered. He gave Bard's temple a nuzzle with his nose and then went to the door. 

Bard smiled and followed him inside. He watched Thranduil go upstairs; he waited until the blond was out of sight before slipping out of his boots and coat. When he went into the kitchen, he saw Elrond and his children sitting around the table. 

"You survived!" Bain exclaimed teasingly. 

"Yeah, it wasn't so bad," Bard admitted. He ruffled his son's hair and kissed the tops of Tilda's and Sigrid's heads. "How's your night going?"

"We had pizza!" Tilda exclaimed, as if that was enough of an answer. 

Bard chuckled. "Is there any left for Thranduil?"

"And you," Sigrid assured him. "It's in the oven." 

"Thanks, love," he replied. 

"Where _is_ Thranduil?" Elrond asked. 

Bard tried not to frown. "He had to go upstairs for a minute." 

Elrond studied him for a moment. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Bard replied. "But, I need to ask you something later, if there's time." 

The owner of the facility nodded and stood up. "Let's discuss it now," he insisted. He looked at Bard's children. "Would you excuse us for a minute?" he asked them. 

"Is Thranduil alright?" Tilda asked. 

"He is," Bard assured her. He crouched down in front of her. "Nothing happened and he's fine. He had a hard day, that's all." 

Tilda nodded. "Are you gonna cheer him up, Da?"

Bard smiled. "I'm going to try," he replied. "But, if you want to cheer him up tomorrow, I'm sure he'd like that, too." 

She grinned. 

He stood up and followed Elrond to the living room. When they were alone, it took him a few minutes to put together what he wanted to say. He had questions, he had concerns, and it all wanted to leave his mouth at the same time. 

"First, what happened?" Elrond asked, as if he could sense Bard's dilemma. 

"Haldir." 

Elrond tilted his head. "I don't..." 

"He tried to force Thranduil onto his horse," Bard said quietly, but nearly growling. "I left them alone for a few minutes, and when I went looking for him---" he broke off and shook his head. "Did you put him up to that?"

"No!" Elrond exclaimed. He frowned. "Haldir asked after him, a few weeks ago. If he'd been riding yet. If he was seeing anyone. He'd made no mention of his intentions, then or more recently." 

Bard sighed. "I knew it was bad. I know what fear's like... but seeing him so scared..." 

"The first few months after he returned from the hospital, he couldn't even visit his own stables," Elrond admitted. "He's made progress since then. I wish he would get back into the saddle, but I know he doesn't think he's ready." 

"What does he like when he's been shaken?" Bard asked. 

"Usually, hiding in bed. I doubt he'll be back down tonight." 

"He said..." 

Elrond smiled sadly. "He most likely said it to escape. He's very good at that." 

Bard nodded. "Alright. Well, I'll check on him in a little while," he decided aloud. 

"Thank you, Bard." 

"I care about him." 

The other dark-haired man nodded, too. "I know you do." 

"Watch out for him, when they're both here?" 

"Of course, yes, absolutely," Elrond promised. "Now that I know about this altercation, I will be more attentive." He smiled a little and motioned to the doorway. "Go say good-night to your children and have something to eat before you try to find him. He'll need some time to calm down and you need to take care of yourself, too." 

Bard thanked him and ducked out of the room. He saw Sigrid rounding up her siblings and he frowned, but not in real sadness. "You guys are leaving me?"

"Yep," Sigrid replied. "It's bedtime. We stayed up to make sure you survived the yoga class, but now, we're going to bed." 

"We're gonna watch a movie on Sigrid's laptop!" Tilda whispered excitedly. 

Bard laughed a little. That made more sense. "Alright," he agreed. "Go on. And don't forget to brush your teeth." 

"Yes, sir," Bain muttered teasingly, sloppily saluting him. Bard reached out and ruffled his son's hair again, earning him a quiet squawk for his efforts. 

"Night, kids." 

He received a trio of good-nights in response and then he was alone. He didn't want to be alone when he knew Thranduil was hiding somewhere. But, he didn't know where to start his search and he was hungry. Before he left the kitchen, he grabbed a slice of pizza for himself and scarfed it down as quickly as he could; then, he put together a plate for Thranduil and found a small bottle of juice in the fridge, and set off in search of his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Parts of an english saddle can be found [here](http://englishsaddleguide.com/images/english-saddle-diagram.gif), if you're interested.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard catches up to Thranduil. They eventually talk and share a bit more of their pasts.

When he didn't find him in Thranduil's bedroom, Bard wasn't sure where he should look next. He wandered around the house---both the first and second levels---and couldn't find him anywhere. 

About to give up, deciding Thranduil would only be found when he wanted to be found, he decided to poke his head in his own bedroom... just in case. 

There was Thranduil. Wearing his leggings and tank top, still, he was curled up on the bed around one of the pillows and staring blankly at the wall. 

"I was worried when I couldn't find you," Bard admitted, quietly. 

Thranduil blinked. His gaze shifted to Bard. 

"I... I'm sorry."

"No worries. Elrond said you like to hide." 

"I wasn't hiding."

Bard's eyebrows jumped up. 

Thranduil sighed. "Alright. Maybe I was hiding a little," he conceded. "I can leave if---"

"Stay," Bard insisted. He approached the bed and set the plate and bottle down on the bedside table. "Sit up and eat, please?"

The tall blond sighed again. But, he unwound his limbs from the pillow and sat up so he could take the plate. 

"I guessed you'd want veggie, but I can go grab---"

"No," Thranduil interjected. "This is what I'd pick." He looked down at the food. "Thank you," he whispered. 

Bard's insides clenched at the fragile expression on Thranduil's face. He wanted to stay and ask all the questions on his mind; however, he knew it probably wasn't the best idea to push so much right away. 

He sat down next to him. He reached out and rubbed the other man's back. 

"Eat," he instructed gently. "Will you be alright if I grab a quick shower?"

Thranduil nodded. Bard moved his hand to the back of the blond's head; he stroked down to his neck, where he squeezed gently. 

"Stay," he murmured. "I'll come back and keep you warm, if you want." 

"Please," the other man replied. 

Bard leaned forward, on impulse, and kissed his temple. Thranduil hummed quietly and briefly in response. 

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," he promised. 

Thranduil nodded. Bard leaned away, studied him for a minute, and then stood up. 

He gathered his things before turning. He smiled a bit as he watched Thranduil take a bite of the first slice. After that, he slipped out of the room.

He kept his shower brief. He didn't want to break his promise and leave the man alone for longer; he hoped fifteen minutes would be enough time for Thranduil to recover some of his composure but not too much time to make him feel abandoned. 

When he returned to his room, Thranduil had finished all but the crusts and half of the bottle of juice. He'd curled back up around the pillow; his eyes were mostly closed. 

"You changed in there," Thranduil mumbled, pouting. 

Bard chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said, trying to sound sympathetic even though he felt a little boost to his self-esteem at hearing Thranduil's complaint. 

"Make it up to me, take something off," the blond insisted. 

He chuckled again. He knew his face was flushed. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he was a little embarrassed. 

"It will cheer me up," he added. 

"Oh, fine," Bard said on a sigh, although he really wasn't feeling too put upon by Thranduil's demand. 

He pulled off his tank top and tossed it back towards his duffle bag. When he looked back at the other man, he saw he had his full attention. He blushed under the scrutiny. 

"Do I pass inspection?" 

Thranduil rolled his eyes and reached a hand out for him. Bard accepted the gesture, sliding his palm against the one on offer. Thranduil tugged; Bard followed. 

They ended up curled together, Bard on his back and Thranduil nestled in at his side. The blond's head rested on Bard's chest; his free arm wrapped around the reiner's middle and one of his legs draped over both of the reiner's legs. 

"I suppose you have questions," Thranduil said quietly. 

"They can wait," Bard said in reply. He reached out to the bedside table; one fumble later, the room was plunged into darkness. "Let's get some rest first."

"Thank you," the other man whispered.

At the touch of Thranduil's lips to his bare sternum, Bard felt a _zap!_ of warm electricity thrill through him. 

&&&

 

They rested for about an hour before Thranduil grew restless. Bard smiled into the darkness; he'd been surprised the blond would last that long. 

"Bard?" he asked. "Are you awake?" 

"Yeah," Bard whispered back. 

Thranduil drummed his fingers lightly against Bard's side. "I... I dated him off and on, for about a year. Before my accident," he admitted quietly. 

"We all have history," Bard reminded him. "You don't need to---"

"You bailed me out. He said things. I should explain."

Suddenly, Bard felt like he didn't need to know. One of his reasons, he could barely admit to himself, was the fear that knowing would make him feel jealous of what they might have shared. The other, more important reason was that he wanted to be a safe space for Thranduil; he didn't want to pressure him to relive bad memories. 

"I don't... I mean, if it's too hard, I can just put two and two together," the reiner whispered. 

"I want you to come up with four," Thranduil responded, "instead of three or five." 

"Then... I'm listening." 

"I know you've probably guessed I have certain inclinations," he said quietly. "Between the book I sent you and Haldir's comments---"

"We all like what we like," Bard interjected. "If you like to be tied up or anything else along those lines... that doesn't bother me." 

He was glad Thranduil couldn't see the way his face warmed when he spoke. He was also glad Thranduil would never be able to guess about the thoughts he'd had after reading that book. 

"I like some of that," Thranduil admitted. "I have topped, but honestly, I prefer not taking on that role.

"Haldir fancies himself a dom. He likes... lots of things. A lot of things I'm not comfortable with, which is why we were off and on. He'd get... very intense. And I would need a break to cool things off. 

"It doesn't help that he's poly," Thranduil continued, "and I am definitely not. But aside from that, he was looking for a full-time power exchange, and I could not give him that. Would not, could not. Ever." 

Bard processed all of that. He'd never considered that occasionally partaking in something more adventurous could be taken to a more permanent level; it sounded exhausting to him, in either role. He'd also never considered polyamory an option for himself. He didn't think his heart could ever be divided like that. 

(He wouldn't say it out loud, but he was glad Thranduil indicated he was monogamous, too.) 

"When I found out he was actively looking for other play partners, I stopped seeing him," the blond said quietly. "And then, a few months after that, I had my accident. And I only saw family and staff. We tried again when I'd healed enough. I quickly learned he was not going to be a constructive outlet for my recovery. I told him we were through. For good. He stopped calling, thank goodness, and I haven't seen him much since then." 

Bard rubbed Thranduil's back and side with his hands. "Thanks for telling me that." 

"Legolas doesn't know." 

"I wasn't going to tell him." 

Thranduil chuckled humourlessly. "That isn't what I meant," he said. "We were fighting a lot, in the years before the accident. He was a teenager... I was cold, distant. I still---"

Bard growled. "You are not." 

The blond in his arms sniffed. "I'm getting better, then," he decided. "But, he doesn't know why I was a mess. Partially because of the intensity. It does things, to your brain, you know? Endorphin highs and lows, and I did not always handle it well. I'd always known what I am, in that regard, but I always played safely... within my limits. Haldir pushed at them and I didn't ask for---or get---what I didn't realise I needed after to balance myself out." 

"That makes sense," Bard reasoned. "You had Legolas when you were still figuring yourself out. And being a parent is tough---"

"I was a single parent," Thranduil admitted quietly. "His mother wanted to give him up for adoption. I... could not." 

Bard sighed. "God, Thran. I can't even imagine... from the start, on your own..." 

"It wasn't her fault," Thranduil said when Bard's words trailed off into the dark around them. "We were best friends. From a young age, I knew I was probably completely gay, but I was curious. Maybe because my father was so sure it was a phase. I don't know. Whatever the reason, she loved me enough to offer to be that girl for me."

Bard groaned quietly. "And she got pregnant." 

"We were like a cautionary tale," the blond joked, "told to teens everywhere to warn them of the dangers of sex." He sighed. "She wouldn't abort. I was relieved. My parents wanted us to do the right thing and get married, but it would have killed us. She decided to go away and live with her cousins until the birth. I refused to give up my parental rights.

"I don't regret it ever, not even for a second. Legolas is worth every bit of struggle... but when we weren't getting along, it was very difficult to remind myself of that." 

"Does seeing Haldir..."

"Make me remember all of that? Not in an overwhelming sort of way. But, it does remind me of worse times, a little," Thranduil admitted. "It's more... well, the fear I felt when he tried to get me on a horse again was more traumatic than those memories." 

Bard frowned and pressed his lips into the top of Thranduil's head. "Does Legolas have a relationship with his mother?"

"Sort of," the blond replied. "I sent her holiday cards with his picture, when he was a baby, to keep her informed, but she didn't like it. I understand that---it was a reminder. In the last few years, she's reached out, but Legolas is wary. He knows more or less what happened. He doesn't know it was an experiment on my part... but he knows his mother wasn't ready for a family," he explained. "They meet once or twice a year, schedules permitting."

"Are you two still in touch?" 

Thranduil shrugged against him. "We'll never be as close as we were through grade school. But, we started talking again, very carefully, after my accident. Elrond reached out to her, told her what happened. I think he was worried I wouldn't be able to raise Legolas. She wouldn't have taken him in, but she did decide to call when I was more mobile. We still talk semi-regularly. She has a family of her own now. She lives near Lothlórien." 

Bard nodded, rubbing his chin against the top of Thranduil's head. He'd had a hard enough time with keeping his own family together, after the car accident, but his children hadn't been babies and he'd been a father for a while. The idea of Thranduil being on his own made his heart ache for the young man he'd been, still growing up and with a baby needing his care. 

"You are amazing," Bard whispered. 

"I am not, don't say such a thing," Thranduil retorted. 

"You can't change my mind." 

Thranduil sighed. "Don't say that... I don't want you to have some sort of image of me in your head that I can't live up to." 

Bard rubbed the other man's back. "Not possible. You live up to it, with every bit of yourself you show me." 

"Damn it, now I'm blushing." 

The reiner chuckled and brushed his fingers up and over his cheek. Sure enough, it was very warm to the touch, but he wished he could see the colour rising in Thranduil's face. 

(And that thought was enough to bring a fresh wash of warmth up into Bard's face.)

"So..."

"Hmm?"

Bard cleared his throat quietly. "Well, you mentioned... I mean, well, what do you like?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said Haldir liked different things," he said quietly, voice wavering with fresh nerves. "But you never said what you like." 

Thranduil tensed. "Oh. I... well... I'm not a heavy player in the scene, or anything like that. I used to enjoy rope. Some tying, but mostly being tied. Sensation play---having someone use different implements on my skin, feeling the different textures. A little impact play, but nothing too strong. Haldir always said I was weak, if I wouldn't let him try electricity or give me a caning, but to be honest, a lot of that... turns me off."

"What drew you to those activities?" Bard asked. 

"I'd like to say it was the beauty of some rope art I'd seen---and sure, that was part of it---but, really, it was the romance of having a place to belong and someone to take care of," Thranduil admitted in a quiet voice. 

Bard exhaled slowly; the answer had not been what he expected and he felt caught off-guard by it. It revealed more of Thranduil's personality than he'd expected as well as more of it than he thought he should be permitted to see. 

"I can understand that," he murmured. 

"Are you uncomfortable now?"

"Not at all," Bard assured him. 

He was telling the truth. He may have kept a very-close-to-vanilla lifestyle with his wife, but he'd been aware of what other people did and didn't think they were all that strange (for that) because everyone processed pleasure differently. After reading the book that Thranduil had sent him, he'd guessed Thranduil liked some of those activities; it hadn't changed his perception of the man except to indicate that he had layers Bard had yet to discover. 

He was, however, uncertain of how he could give Thranduil what he needed---if their friendship was, in fact, developing into more. He'd never done anything like rope bondage before. The sensation play sounded like something more his speed, something he might be able to handle, but he wasn't entirely sure if he could manage it. 

That didn't mean he did not like the idea of Thranduil tied up. The image had sparked curiosity in him more than once, and as he contemplated it again, he found his pulse quickening. 

"Tell me something," Thranduil murmured, shaking him from his thoughts. "Tell me something so it's just not me spilling all my secrets." 

Bard smiled. "What do you want to know?"

"Something good." 

He chuckled. "Well... I've lived a pretty boring life." 

"Have you ever tied anyone up before?"

Bard coughed. Thranduil chuckled. 

"Ah, no," the reiner admitted. "I'm not opposed to it, though, if I can learn what to do." 

"Mmm, good," Thranduil whispered. 

"Yeah?"

Thranduil nodded against him. "I trust you," he said softly.  

Bard tightened his hold on the other man for a few moments. "I trust you, too," he whispered. "Thank you for telling me all of that."

"I... I'm not ready yet, but I also trust you to help me get back in the saddle," Thranduil added. "Maybe on Thor? If you don't mind. He seems... steady." 

Bard smiled as it felt like his heart skipped several beats. "He's pretty bombproof," he agreed. "You should come visit. We can go down to the indoor arena one night, when you're ready, and try it. No one has to know how it goes but us." He paused and then added: "You should come visit, even if you aren't ready." 

"Do you have a bed for me?"

"I might, if you don't mind company." 

Thranduil made a small, pleased sound in his throat. "Sounds good," he whispered. 

"Good." 

&&&

They woke up once more during the night. Bard realised they'd woken up with him between Thranduil and the door, and thought that was a little strange since their positions had been reversed when they fell asleep, but Thranduil didn't mention it so he didn't, either. 

In the still of the pre-dawn hours, Bard told him about the accident and Lily's death. He didn't feel shame when talking about her, without tears or with Thranduil, and he hoped that meant he was ready to move past her memory. Thranduil listened attentively, asked questions about her when they'd been together, and he particularly loved the story Bard told about realising he'd been attracted to her, sexually and romantically. 

"It hit me like a ton of bricks," he admitted to the other man, after telling him how he'd ended up gobsmacked in the show ring and lost the class as a result (because he couldn't remember the reining pattern). "I couldn't breathe around her, let alone talk around her. I'd gone my whole life not understanding how this stuff felt and it just... nearly knocked me out." He paused and added: "It still does. I... I can't imagine feeling like this about strangers or acquaintances. How do people get through it?"

Thranduil chuckled. "They screw. Or try to, anyway." 

"I... I couldn't... huh." 

"How long did it take you to work up the courage to tell her?" Thranduil asked. 

"Way too long, according to Lily. And even then, she said she needed a decoder ring to figure out what I was trying to get across." 

The blond laughed softly. "Oh, Bard... lucky for you it hasn't taken that long this time." 

"Oh. Good." 

"Just tell me when you're ready. Or send up a flare." 

Bard smiled. He promised to do that and their conversation slowly gave way to more sleep. 

When they woke the next time, it was past dawn, and Bard barely had time to register his embarrassment over his morning erection poking into Thranduil's backside before there were the sounds of little giggles and little feet on the floor in the hallway. 

"Thran," he mumbled. 

"Ugh." 

Bard patted his hip. "Something's going on. I know that giggle." 

"Oh... the 'mischief's afoot' giggle?"

"Yep." 

"Legolas had me well-trained with that one, years five through twelve," Thranduil whispered, groaning a little. "Hopefully this is pleasant mischief." 

He heard Sigrid shushing Tilda and then there was a _thump_ as something was set outside the door. Tilda's little giggles could be heard again as their footsteps retreated from the door again. 

"They left us something." 

"Probably just you---"

"My kids have figured out I have company," Bard reminded him. "They're not idiots." 

"I know, but I hardly rank on their list of people to surprise first thing in the morning," the blond mumbled. 

Bard smiled into Thranduil's back. "They know I like you." 

"If it's bad mischief, I'll have you tell them you strongly dislike me," the other man joked. 

The reiner chuckled. He got out of bed and stumbled drowsily towards the door. He opened it, stepped out---and nearly stepped onto a breakfast tray. 

"I just almost had a Harry Potter moment," Bard said on a little laugh. He bent over and picked up the tray before closing the door and turning back to the bed. Thranduil plucked the note off the top of it when he was close enough. "What does it say?"

"Legolas is teaching my class today. And we're to relax and enjoy the morning." 

"Nice." 

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. The expression on his face was softened slightly by the messy cloud of pale hair around his head---at least in Bard's mind. 

"Not nice?"

"Not if they think something's... more. Elrond is insufferable when he thinks he knows everything." 

Bard smiled and shrugged. "Well, let him wonder." 

"You're not worried about what your kids think?" Thranduil asked him. 

"Tilda's already pretty much got our number," Bard explained as he sat back down on the bed. "And Sigrid thought we were an item from day one. Dunno what Bain thinks, but when the time's right for both of us, I'll tell them what we want them to know." 

"I wanted to be an item from day one, or at least... riding partners for a night or two," Thranduil admitted, making Bard chuckle. "But, this... I like it." 

"You're not disappointed, then?"

"Surprised and pleased," the blond told him. 

Bard didn't realise what he was doing until he'd caught Thranduil's chin in his hand; he didn't hesitate, though, once his brain caught up, and continued to lean in and press a quick kiss to the other man's lips. It was dry but warm, with both sets of lips still loose from sleep, and (despite its lack of fanfare) it left Bard with a skipping pulse. 

When he pulled back, Thranduil was watching him with wide eyes set in a flushed face. 

"Thran?"

"I... that is good, too." 

Bard smiled. He reached over the other man's hands and grabbed a piece of toast off of the tray. There was a small stack of slices, buttered, and a pot of jam. Next to the toast there was a bowl of yogurt and fruit; a little pile of bacon rested on a small plate next to the yogurt. Two glasses of juice and two mugs of steeped tea were also on the tray. 

"Eat," he demanded in what he hoped wasn't a too-bossy tone of voice. 

Thranduil seemed to give himself a little shake before reaching for the bowl of yogurt and fruit. 

"So, good mischief, then?"

Thranduil smiled and nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm behind on replying to comments, and on writing, and I'm sorry about that. This last week was pretty bad, and I think this coming week will be worse. Thank you for reading... and for bearing with me as I work out some stuff. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard's all smiles. Some of Elrond's family comes to visit. Legolas gives his blessing. And Sigrid was in a minor accident.

The day had started slowly; by noon, the world had mostly righted itself, with the exception of Bard being unable to keep himself from smiling. 

Even when his children individually questioned him about the previous night (and whether or not Thranduil was his boyfriend), he'd been nearly grinning through each run of evading the inquisition. 

Especially when Tilda greeted Bard from the perch of Thranduil's arms (she was really getting too big to be carried, but he'd assumed her cuteness was difficult for Thranduil to refuse, too) after he returned from teaching his afternoon classes. 

"Tilda, darling, did you ask Thran before you jumped him?" Bard asked after a kiss to her cheek and a nuzzle to Thranduil's temple. 

"Of course. She's cheering me up," the blond explained. 

Bard chuckled. "Or helping you with weight lifting before yoga," he teased. 

Tilda blew a raspberry in her father's direction. Thranduil did the same. The affection in his heart seemed to multiply at the sight of the two of them together; he hoped he wasn't grinning like an idiot, but judging by the ache in his cheeks, he knew he probably was. 

"Alright, I see I'm outnumbered," Bard surrendered. "I'm going to go wash up." 

"There are sandwiches when you come down," Thranduil told him. "We have plenty of time before yoga." 

Bard smiled, nodded, and set off for the stairs. He didn't change, but he did put his clothes for the fitness class on his bed so they'd be ready after he ate. Then, he ducked into the bathroom and washed up. He tried fixing his hair, realised it wouldn't cooperate because it had been in a messy bun all day, laughed at himself for being an idiot, and then left the bathroom---

\---only to nearly crash into a passing Legolas. 

"Oh!" the younger man exclaimed. He wiped a hand over his cheek; Bard saw a glistening he thought was a tear smudge, but he wasn't sure. Legolas smiled a bit; the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry about that." 

"Where's the fire?" 

"In my room, I think." 

Bard frowned. "I... is everything... alright?" 

"Yes," Legolas replied. "It's just... I need a few minutes." 

"Sure. We all do, from time to time," the reiner said, knowing he didn't know the son as well as the father. But, he wanted to make sure he knew he cared, because he _did_ (Legolas was Thranduil's son, he couldn't not care), so he quickly added: "If there's anything I can do or---"

Legolas surprised him by embracing him in a quick hug. Bard barely had time to return the gesture before the younger man was stepping back out of his personal space. 

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for offering to help. And for my dad." 

Bard blushed. "I... well, he's... I really like him." 

"I know. And I hope you know he really likes you, too," the young man said. "I haven't seen him smile so much at Elrond's, probably ever, and I can see you're the reason. I want him to be happy, so if you're concerned about what I think... don't be." 

"I am---I mean, I was, I guess. Thanks." 

Legolas smiled again, the expression much more genuine. "Your kids think something's going on, and they're pretty excited," he said. "I haven't confirmed it for them, though." 

"It's still pretty new," Bard explained. "I don't want to make a fuss until we're both ready for that." 

"Well, they approve, too, just so you know." 

"The breakfast tray was a clue." 

Legolas chuckled. "Right. Well, we thought you'd like the lie-in." 

Suddenly struck by an idea of what Legolas thought they'd been doing together, Bard flushed. "It wasn't... we weren't... I mean, we were up late talking," he quickly said. "It's still pretty new and I'm not the type to---well, my intentions are honourable and---"

The blond grinned. "Relax. I wasn't implying anything." 

Bard nearly sagged with relief. "I'm not taking advantage or---"

"I know." 

They stayed in front of each other, no one saying anything else. Bard shifted first, motioning towards the stairs. 

"I should... uh, I left him with Tilda and I know she can get a little... much, if you're not prepared for it. I should go rescue him," he said, feeling a little awkward. 

Legolas nodded. "Would you do me a favour?"

"Of course." 

"Could you not mention to anyone that you've seen me?" he asked quietly. "My father, if he asks, sure. But, I know he'll understand." 

Bard nodded. He didn't understand, but it was a simple enough favour. Legolas wasn't the type to shirk his responsibilities, and Bard understood the need for a little time alone. He hoped he and his children weren't the cause for his need to escape, but he could honour the young man's request either way. 

"No problem. Go enjoy the quiet." 

"Thanks, Bard." 

They parted ways after that. Legolas disappeared down another corridor and Bard went down the stairs; it wasn't until he was nearly in the kitchen that he heard voices he'd never heard before. 

A young brunette was kneeling in front of his youngest, who was sitting in Thranduil's lap. They were talking in quiet tones, but Bard could see Tilda was excited; she was nearly vibrating with positive energy as she listened to whatever the newcomer was saying to her. His other two children weren't there, but he wasn't worried. They'd said something earlier about checking on their horses and spending time with some of the other students. Elrond was watching the scene from the kitchen counter, leaning against it and sipping from a glass of wine; he was smiling and looked rather pleased, but Bard did not know why. 

"I thought you got lost up there," Thranduil teased. 

Bard smiled. "Not yet," he replied. 

"Arwen," Elrond said quietly to the woman, "I'd like to introduce you to Bard---"

"Oh!" Arwen exclaimed. She turned, beaming, and Bard was embraced in another hug before he knew what was happening. "Dad's spoken so highly of you," she murmured. "It's wonderful to meet you." 

Bard glanced quickly at Thranduil, who looked as though he were trying not to laugh, before smiling at Arwen. "It's nice to meet you, too," he said. "You've come up in conversation a few times this week. I'm glad to put a face to the name, finally." 

She grinned. "I was home last week, but Aragorn wanted to catch the last day of the clinic and ride in the snow, so I decided to come back with him." 

"Where is Aragorn?" Elrond asked. "Did you leave him in the truck?"

"He went out to the barn to see if Legolas was out there," she replied, smiling a softer smile. "Where is my blond brother?"

"Probably in the barns," Thranduil said with a shrug. "I didn't see him come in." 

Bard knew better than to open his mouth, but only just. He'd been about to mention he'd seen the younger man, when the conversation they'd had flooded his memory. He closed his mouth, gave himself a mental shake, and stepped around Arwen to take a seat at the table. Elrond asked his daughter a question about her plans the following day and the subject of Legolas' location seemed to be set aside. 

Thranduil had a small knot of tension between his brows that had not been there a moment ago. Bard wanted to reach out and smooth his finger over it until it was gone; he refrained, though, because he didn't know if it would make Thranduil more uncomfortable. 

"Da?" Tilda asked. 

"Yes, darling?" 

"Are you going to Thranduil's yoga class tonight?"

Bard nodded. "I am... is that alright? Did you want to do something, just us, tonight instead?"

"Can I come and try it?" she asked. 

"Did you ask Thranduil?" Bard asked her in reply. "It's his class, after all." 

Thranduil smiled. "She already asked me. I suggested she ask you." 

"You're fine with it?"

"She's probably in better shape than some of the others in the class," the blond said. Bard wondered if he was referring to the girls who spent more time giggling than anything else. "I have no problem with it." 

Bard smiled. "Alright then." He reached out and brushed his finger over Tilda's nose. She grinned in response. "Why don't you give Thran's knees a break and go change into the jogging pants I know you packed? Those jeans won't be very comfy." 

"'Kay!" 

Tilda slid from Thranduil's lap and hurried out of the room. Finn gave a bark and, as he had all week, followed her. 

Arwen turned at the commotion and laughed softly. "What a traitor. He's such a sucker for a girl who will keep rubbing his ears."

Bard laughed. "They've been stuck together since we arrived. She's going to miss him terribly when we leave." 

"He'll probably mope around here, too," Elrond commented. "You'll have to come back with your children, maybe in the spring, for a visit." 

"That'd be nice," Bard admitted. "You have a great farm. It would be nice to see it again without the snow." 

Thranduil stood and went to the fridge. He came back with a platter of sandwiches, of which everyone took notice; Bard wondered when he had time to put them together, or if he'd done it alone. He wished he could have helped, because it seemed like Thranduil did most of the work when it came to meal time. 

"Thanks," he murmured when Thranduil sat back down next to him. 

Thranduil smiled a little and nodded. Elrond joined them at the table; Arwen followed after bringing a bottle of fizzy water to the table. She poured some in the glasses set on the middle of the table and everyone took a one. 

A young, scruffy man came into the kitchen a few minutes later. Bard had heard the door open, but assumed it was his children; when he couldn't hear their voices, he turned and saw the other man. 

"Aragorn!" Elrond exclaimed. He rose from the table and hugged the newcomer. "Did you find Legolas?"

He frowned. "No, he wasn't around. The kids said he left a little while ago." 

"Well, he couldn't have gotten far," Elrond assured him. "I know you'll see him tonight." 

Elrond introduced Aragorn to Bard, and then to Tilda when she came running back into the room with Finn still at her heels. Finn took a minute to greet Aragorn---he was a familiar face---but the dog returned to Tilda's side by the time she clambered up into Thranduil's lap again. 

"Darling, you should ask first---"

"It's fine, Bard," the blond assured him. "She's a delight." 

"Yeah, Da, I'm a delight!" 

Bard chuckled, as did most everyone else at the table. "Well, I've been told off," he muttered in a good-natured tone. "Did you eat anything lately, Tilda? You can have a sandwich if you---"

"I already ate one. Thranduil let me pick the best one." 

"Oh, did he?"

Thranduil smirked. "She helped me, she got first pick." 

Bard opened his mouth to tease him about spoiling his daughter, but was interrupted by Bain's and Sigrid's return to the house. He greeted them with a smile---and the smile slid from his face when he saw the cut on his eldest child's brow. 

"Don't freak out, Dad---"

Her warning came too late. Bard was already up, napkin in hand, and he was holding her face in one hand while he examined the damage with the second. 

"What happened?" he asked. 

"I fell," she admitted. 

He sighed. He guided her over to the kitchen sink. Elrond told him where to find towels and the first aid kit, but it was Bain that gathered up the supplies. 

"Off Jane?" he asked. She nodded. He dabbed a damp towel over the cut after Bain handed it to him; he winced when she winced, knowing all too well how cuts hurt but also that they had to be cleaned to help with healing. "Tell me what happened," he insisted. 

"We were riding... Lucy had turned on the stereo, and the speakers made this clicking sound. Jane bolted. We were right next to one of the speakers." She smiled wanly. "No horn to hold onto. I think I might prefer western." 

"Were you wearing your helmet?" he asked. 

She nodded. "That's how the scrape happened. It dug into my head. The rim broke off of it. I'll need a new one." She sighed. "I got back on, Dad. I'm fine." 

Bard ignored her and checked her over for more injuries. When she grabbed her hand back out of his, he looked into her eyes and waited. 

"I may have sprained my wrist," she whispered. 

"Ice," Thranduil declared, from behind them. He stood up and went to the freezer, leaving Tilda in his seat. He joined father and daughter with a gel pack. "Put that on it for now. If it warms, there's another," he told her. "I'll wrap it up if your father can't when we get back from class." 

"I... thanks, Thranduil," Sigrid murmured. 

He smiled at her. "You're welcome," he replied. "Can you wiggle your fingers?"

She nodded. "Yep. Bain had me check. It doesn't feel broken." 

He nodded, too. "Good." He turned his attention to Bain. "Did you get hurt?"

Bard's son shook his head. "No, Thor only got worked up because Jane did. When she calmed down again, he was fine." 

"Thank god," Bard muttered. He looked at Sigrid and sighed. "I'm sorry that happened, love," he said quietly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, mindful of the cut's location. "I hate it when you guys get hurt." 

"We're fine," she insisted. 

"I'll get up and lunge Jane for a while, before your class," he promised. "Did you want me to ride her first?"

"No, Dad," she murmured. She smiled. "Stop worrying. I've fallen off before and this won't be the last time. She's always flightier in new places, anyway." 

"Then, we'll have to work on that more," he decided. "Maybe we'll bring her along to more of the reining shows next season." 

Bard schooled himself against the adrenaline in his veins and ushered Sigrid over to the table. She protested the whole way, insisting she could get there by herself, but he didn't care. He needed to take care of her, until his brain realised that she was, in fact, going to be fine. 

"Maybe I should stay at the house tonight." 

Sigrid rolled her eyes. "No way."

Arwen chuckled. "Fathers are always over-protective," she murmured. 

Elrond snorted. "I don't know what you mean by that." 

"I fell for the first time---completely my fault, because I was convinced my pony and I could be like those stunt riders at the circus---and Dad nearly sold Taffeta to a glue factory," she said, smiling at Sigrid. 

"That pony was a terror," Elrond insisted. "I don't know why I bought it for you." 

Thranduil laughed as he rejoined the table. "Because she batted her baby blues at you, Elrond. Honestly. I was there when you bought her." 

As they joked, Bard looked down at his daughter. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Shaken, and a little banged up, but I'll survive," she assured him. 

He kissed her again. Then, he walked over to his son, who'd been standing on the edge of the group the whole time, and hugged him. 

"Dad?"

"I'm glad you're not hurt," he said quietly. 

"I... sure. Okay." After a minute, Bain patted his father's back. "Uh, Dad? You want to ease up a bit?"

"Oh! Sorry," he mumbled. He eased back and smiled at his son. "Go sit. Eat a sandwich before they're all gone." 

"I made enough for a small army," Thranduil assured Bain. "There should be plenty until your father returns to his seat." 

"Hey!" Bard squawked. 

Thranduil grinned at him as his children laughed. 

Bard didn't return to the table right away. He cleaned up the mess he'd made at the sink, putting the first aid kit back together and away, then taking the towel with Sigrid's blood on it to the laundry room. 

He stalled there, meaning to soak it in the sink but getting held up when he saw the blood stains, and thought about how it was his Sigrid's blood staining the cloth. He'd fallen lots of times and he knew his children each had at least one fall to their names; they'd always come away relatively unscathed and he allowed himself a moment to feel the fear that that might not always be the case. 

"Hey," Thranduil murmured. 

Bard looked up, startled. 

"Easy," the blond whispered as he approached. "She's going to be fine." 

"Jane's usually so much better behaved, I take it for granted, and I didn't even know they were riding tonight---"

Thranduil wrapped him up in a hug when he abruptly stopped talking. Bard sighed and tucked his face into Thranduil's shoulder. The other man rubbed his back in long, slow strokes. 

"Would knowing have prevented it from happening?"

"Probably not," Bard mumbled. 

He pressed a kiss to Bard's temple. "I know it's not easy," he whispered. "I panic every time Legolas falls. I panicked when you last fell. But, she got back on, and she came back with very minor injuries." 

"I know." 

"She's laughing with her siblings and Arwen right now. That girl is tough. She takes after you that way." 

"You think?"

"Yes." 

Bard sighed. "I didn't feel tough in there." 

"I know." Thranduil kissed his head again. "Put the cloth in the sink and come have something to eat." 

"In a minute." 

"I'm not leaving you in here to contemplate your daughter's mortality," Thranduil said quietly. "Don't make me resort to extreme measures." 

"Huh?"

Thranduil snorted softly. Then, Bard felt two hands slide into the back pockets of his jeans and squeeze. He yelped; his body automatically tried to jump back, but Thranduil didn't release him, so his hips pressed into the hips directly against his. Bard swallowed hard and looked up at the man in front of him; he felt a wash of warmth crash his system and override the terror. 

"Feeling better?" Thranduil teased. 

"I..."

"Is it too much?"

Bard swallowed again. He shook his head. Then, he tossed the cloth in the direction of the sink; with his hands freed, he guided Thranduil's head to his for a kiss that was much different in intent than the one they'd shared that morning. 

Thranduil gasped but didn't falter. He returned the kiss, matching Bard's lips, tongue, and teeth with his own and only gentling it when Bard started to feel like he was losing control. 

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah." 

"Adrenaline gone?"

"Sort of." 

Thranduil smirked. His face was flushed and his hair was in slight disarray, but he looked happy. Bard smiled back at him. 

"I'm not sending up a flare yet," he said, reminding the other man of their previous conversation on the subject, "but that was... well, thanks." 

The blond laughed softly. He pressed another kiss to the corner of Bard's mouth before sliding his hands out of Bard's pockets. "I wasn't being completely selfless," he murmured.  

Bard chuckled. "Fair enough." He sighed. "I should probably get back to my kids." 

"Tilda sent me in here to cheer you up," he told him. "There seems to be a lot of that going around." 

The reiner chuckled again. "Seems like it, yeah." 

"Speaking of kids," Thranduil said quietly, "have you seen Legolas?"

"Oh!" Bard exclaimed. "Yes, I have. He asked me to keep his whereabouts to myself, but said you'd understand. He's in his room." 

"I thought so," the blond muttered. "Thanks. I'll go check on him before we leave." 

"What's wrong?"

Thranduil sighed. Bard took one of his hands into his own for an affectionate squeeze. 

"He's been in love with Aragorn for years, since they were young," he admitted on a whisper. "And for a while, I thought his feelings were returned. They still might be. It's hard to tell with Aragorn, especially now that he's older. But, he and Arwen... are close. I don't think they're together, although she wants them to be. She doesn't know about Legolas' feelings. 

"So sometimes, being around them both is difficult for Legolas. He loves Arwen as if she were his sister, but..."

"The heart wants what it wants." 

Thranduil nodded. 

Bard frowned as he put the pieces together. The expression on Legolas' face made sense in light of that information. "He looked a little down," Bard said. "I didn't realise what had happened."

"He probably saw them arrive and escaped before they saw him."

"Sounds about right," Bard agreed. 

"He'll find them when he's ready," Thranduil said. "He always does. He just needs some time to himself first, sometimes." 

Bard nodded. 

Thranduil sighed again. "Alright. Let's go back out there and grab a bite to eat. Tilda will come looking for us if we're gone too long." 

Bard smiled. "Probably." 

Before they could leave the laundry room, though, Bard tugged the other man close again. "Hey," he said quietly. Thranduil raised his eyebrows in question. Bard smiled more and said: "Thanks for being so good with my kids."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. 

"No, seriously." 

"Your children are great," the blond told him. "You raised them well. I'd be an idiot not to be crazy about them." 

"Well, fine, but..." 

Thranduil kissed him, quickly and chastely. "They're important to you. You are important to me. Therefore, they're important to me, too," he whispered. 

"I'm important to you?"

He rolled his eyes again. "Yes, you idiot. You and your good looks and your taking things slow and your inability to be a bad person no matter how much I wanted to curse you in the beginning for not flirting at me," he muttered. "You and all of that are important to me." 

"I don't know how to flirt." 

"Yes, I figured that out. You're slowly improving, though." 

Bard chuckled. "Thanks." 

"We'll have plenty of time to practice, I suspect. Perhaps we'll even work up to sexting." 

"Hold on now, don't rush ahead until I've got the other things down first." 

Thranduil smiled. "I'll ease you into it," he promised. 

Bard grinned. "Good. And," he added, "for the record, you're important to me, too." 

"I know." 

The reiner blinked. "You do?"

"You're the one who told me you never felt attraction before without some sort of emotional connection first," Thranduil reminded him. "And since you seem to enjoy kissing me... well, I figured that out, too." 

"Smart cookie." 

Thranduil snorted. "Yes, I'm quite clever. Now, let's go before little ears hear things." 

"Like us talking?"

"Like me pushing you back against the washing machine and kissing you some more," the blond replied. "My resolve can only take so much temptation." 

Bard blushed, coughed, and allowed Thranduil to drag him out of the laundry room. No one said anything upon their immediate return, but Tilda looked rather pleased that Thranduil had found her father. 

"Got lost?" Sigrid asked, her face imitating perfect innocence. 

Bard tried to glare at her, but he knew he was too flushed to be convincing. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard has some unsettling (to him) thoughts. Elrond makes the reiner an offer. The last day of the clinic goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter, the story's rating goes up a notch. Sorry about that, folks...

Bard groaned, tucking his face into the soft skin beneath him. 

He was getting used to waking up like that, with Thranduil tucked into him. He did not want to think about what it would be like to go back to his own bed, alone; however, the thought came no matter how hard he tried to push it aside. 

"Stop moping," the blond whispered. 

He hugged the man closer in reply, luxuriating in the feel of the warmth and savouring the low level of arousal that had found its way into his system, but eased away before it was too much to stand. He took a deep breath and yawned; he rubbed his eyes and brushed loose curls off his face. 

Thranduil hummed and turned towards Bard, staying in the circle of his arms. One of his own arms slid over Bard's abdomen; his face tucked into his shoulder. 

"Morning," the blond whispered. 

"Hi," Bard whispered back. He reached up and cupped the back of Thranduil's head with his hand. "Sleep well?"

"Very well." 

"Mmm, good." 

He turned his head and saw Thranduil's eyes open, barely focused but on him nevertheless. He smiled. Thranduil smiled, too. 

"I'm thinking about kissing you," Bard whispered. 

"Good." 

"I mean now." 

"I gathered that much. I approve." 

Bard chuckled. He turned his head and brushed his lips over Thranduil's mouth. The other man purred; encouraged by that reaction, Bard turned his body into the other man's form and deepened the kiss. Thranduil wrapped an arm around Bard's neck. He pulled him closer, so their bodies were pressed together; when that wasn't close enough, Bard pulled Thranduil's leg over his hip and kept kissing him. 

It was intoxicating, to be so close to Thranduil, but as much as Bard wanted to give in, he knew it wasn't the right time or the right place---for him, at least. He eased the kiss back to little nips and pecks, taking the time to look down at the man who had ended up underneath him during their morning greeting.  

He was beautiful. There was no other word for it, Bard decided in his thoughts. He was flushed and swollen-lipped and smiling; his hair was mussed and spread out on the pillow around his head. He leaned up to steal another kiss from Bard's lips. Bard gave it without hesitation, but did his best to resist the licking tongue that came with it. 

"You are temptation," Bard groaned. 

"So are you," Thranduil murmured in response. He suddenly frowned. "I'm going to hate it when you leave," he admitted, when Bard prompted him to explain the change in expression. 

"It's not happening until tomorrow morning," he reminded the other man. He kissed the frown off Thranduil's face. "And you will visit me soon." 

"Oh, will I?"

"You will," Bard declared. "Whenever you want. And then we can explore this a bit more." 

"Bribery will only work so many times, Mister Bowman." 

Bard laughed softly. "Is that so?" he inquired. He moved quickly, catching Thranduil's wrists and pinning them above his head. "And what else would work?" he asked. "The threat of a good tickle?"

Thranduil bucked against him, creating friction that made Bard want to yield the upper hand. Bard stood firm, though, and was rewarded by the sight of Thranduil's submission. It happened so subtly, he wasn't even sure what he was seeing; however, the slightly-dazed look in the other man's eyes, combined with the way he went slack and still and bared his throat with a tip of his head, was hard to mistake as anything else. 

Having always been unsure of how he'd feel in any sort of dominant position, Bard was amazed by the way his pulse raced and temperature raised in reaction to the sight. 

He growled. Thranduil whimpered. 

And then, trance broken by the desperation in Thranduil's tone, he blinked and released the man's wrists. 

"Please don't stop," the blond whispered. He didn't move from the position Bard had put him in. "We don't need to fuck. I know you're not there yet. But, please... don't stop." 

He looked at the creamy stretch of neck in front of him. An impulse to bite and suck struck him. His mouth watered at the thought. 

"And if I said I was thinking about marking up your neck?"

Thranduil shuddered. Bard groaned. 

"Do it, do it, do it," the blond whispered pleadingly. 

"Pushy." 

Thranduil tipped his head back even more in response. 

Bard knew he was lost as soon as he saw him do that. He groaned as he leaned down, before he pressed his lips to that skin, and when he did finally close the gap between his mouth and Thranduil's neck, he heard himself growl again. 

He pressed a few open-mouthed kisses along the column of neck before him. Thranduil shivered and shuddered and whined. Bard licked the same line and took delight in the way Thranduil arched against him. He sucked a little mark to the skin beneath Thranduil's jaw; the other man groaned in response. When he nipped at his handiwork, Thranduil shivered again. 

"I---want---to---bite---you---here," he said, each word separated by a kiss and each kiss trailing a path down to the junction where neck met shoulder. 

"Ohyes _please_." 

Bard grinned into Thranduil's shoulder. He let the pleasure he was feeling drive his actions; he opened his mouth and closed it around the spot he'd chosen. Thranduil whimpered. When he pressed his teeth down into the flesh, he felt the other man tense; he growled and Thranduil relaxed again. He accepted every thrust of Bard's hips, twitching up into them, but staying mostly pliant. They rocked together, enjoying the rough friction of pyjama-clad bodies in combination with the bite. 

It was perfectly delicious, and he wanted to give in and lose himself to the heady sensations, whether or not he was ready to go that far. Thranduil was so warm and beautiful underneath him and---

"Bard?"

He came awake quickly, swooping up into a sitting position at the sound of his name. He blinked, blearily until his focus returned, looking around the room. His eyes landed on Thranduil, who was leaning against his dresser; the man was only wearing a towel around his waist and was combing out his long and wet hair. 

He could still taste Thranduil's skin on his tongue. 

"Bad dream?" Thranduil asked quietly. "I'm sorry for calling your name, but you were making noises and thrashing about." 

It had been a dream. 

At that realisation, Bard groaned and flopped back onto the bed. 

"Bard?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled. He brought his arm up and covered his face. "How late did I sleep?"

"It's seven-thirty," Thranduil replied. "I know you want to lunge Jane, but I thought you could use the extra sleep." 

He nodded. He didn't hear Thranduil move closer, but he felt the mattress dip as the other man joined him. Even through the duvet, Thranduil's hand on his thigh was nearly too much; the dream had brought him too close to the edge and he still felt as if he were vibrating. 

"Hey," the blond whispered. "What's wrong?"

"The dream," he muttered. "It was too much." 

"Can I do anything to help? Do you want to talk about it?"

Bard shook his head. Giving voice to the dream would be too much, too intimate, he decided. He shifted his leg out from under Thranduil's touch and slowly eased himself into a sitting position, letting his legs hang over the side of the bed. The blond adjusted his position; he eased away from the other man, only to sit at his side. When he pressed a kiss to Bard's bare shoulder, he hummed contentedly; Bard reached out and rubbed Thranduil's knee, making him hum again. 

"I should get moving," Bard mumbled. 

"Sigrid's still asleep. They all are," the blond told him. "Legolas went to the barn to feed earlier, with Gandalf. Elrond and Arwen are making breakfast for everyone who isn't in the first lesson. They said it would be ready soon."

"How does Legolas feel about that?"

Thranduil sighed. "I suspect he's relieved he won't have to sit at the table and watch Arwen make Bambi-eyes at Aragorn." 

Bard sighed, too. "I wish I could help him." 

"That's usually my line." 

Bard turned his head and smiled a bit at Thranduil. He wanted to share everything he was thinking in that moment, but he refrained. He glanced at Thranduil's neck and saw where he had bitten him in his dream; the skin was smooth, unblemished, begging for the imprint of Bard's teeth. That thought alone was enough to shock him from his stillness. 

He stood up quickly---too quickly, if the small frown on Thranduil's face was any indication---and went to his bag to find some clothes to wear. 

"Bard?"

"Yeah?"

"You know... if something is on your mind..." 

Bard lifted his head. He saw Thranduil's furrowed brow and the way the man bit into his lip when he trailed off; he felt guilt for being the reason that expression was on his face. 

"Well... you could tell me," he finished, sounding softer with every word. "No matter what it is." 

The thought that he'd been the one to make Thranduil feel negatively, in any way, was enough to have him crossing the room again. He set his clothes on the bed and cupped Thranduil's face in one hand. 

"I'm alright," he assured the other man. "But, I know. I... I know I can tell you anything." 

"Even if it's bad," Thranduil finished. "I'd rather know." 

Bard nodded, although he didn't understand what Thranduil was saying. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Thranduil's blond head. Thranduil responded by reaching up and clasping his hand in one of his own; he turned his head and kissed Bard's palm. 

"So, whenever---if ever---you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen." 

Bard nodded again. He gathered up his clothes and left the room; it wasn't until he was in the safety of the bathroom that he felt he could breathe normally again. 

The dream had been too much. 

And not enough. 

And the idea of sharing both of those thoughts with Thranduil was very unsettling. 

&&&

He knew he couldn't hide in the bathroom forever, though, so after he'd washed up and changed into proper clothes for the day and its chilly weather, he headed down the stairs. 

Elrond and Arwen seemed to be arguing over what looked like a bowl of pancake batter. He smiled at the sight and sound of them; he'd had disputes like theirs (blueberries versus chocolate chips) with his children and he had a feeling that Elrond would lose as he had done, many times. 

"Bard, back me up," Elrond insisted. "Blueberries would be better, yes?"

Bard grinned and shook his head. "Sorry, Elrond," he replied. "I'm not getting involved." 

Arwen grinned back at him. "See, Dad? Chocolate chips will be better." 

"I didn't say that," Bard added. "But, I know when it comes to pancakes at my house, fruit is always outnumbered when chocolate's an option." 

"Fine." 

Arwen leaned in and nudged her father with her shoulder to his. "We'll have blueberries in the yogurt," she decided. "But, definitely chocolate in the pancakes." 

"Can I do anything to help?"

Elrond motioned to the coffee pot. "You could help yourself and relax." 

"Decided to take over for Thranduil this morning?" Bard asked. He knew better, after so many mornings of offering to help, to argue any more. "I'm surprised he let you work in your own kitchen." 

Elrond smiled. "When he knew Arwen was here to supervise, he relented." 

"Uncle Thranduil is very possessive of the kitchen," Arwen murmured. "But, he taught me. It is in steady hands." 

Bard laughed softly. When Thranduil came into the room, his laughter faded, but the smile was still on his face. The blond man saw him and smiled back, but turned to the island and its occupants first. He kissed Arwen's cheek, squeezed Elrond's shoulder, and wished them both a good morning. He then went to the coffee pot, poured two mugs, and carried them back to the table. 

"Thanks, Thran," the reiner murmured. 

He replied with a squeeze to the back of Bard's neck. "Feeling better?" he asked quietly. 

"A bit," he admitted. 

"Good." 

Bard helped himself to the cream and sugar on the table; he passed Thranduil the cream without prompting when he had finished pouring a dollop into his coffee. 

"You're unwell?" Elrond asked. 

Bard shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Just had a bit of a rough sleep this morning." 

"A covers hog?"

Bard chuckled as Thranduil huffed. "No, just weird dreams," he said.  

"What did you dream about?" Arwen asked. "Dreams can mean many things. Was it scary or---"

"Arwen," Elrond interrupted. "That's a rather personal question, don't you think?"

Bard tried to convey his thanks to Elrond with a look, and the older man smiled a bit as Arwen apologised. She turned her attention to Bard next, apologising again. 

"It's fine," he assured her. "Just... trying to put it out of my mind." 

He looked down at his coffee. An image of Thranduil yielding control to him flickered through his mind. He shifted, looked up, and found the man from his dream studying him closely. 

"I..." 

"Shh," Thranduil whispered, "it's alright." 

Bard pressed his lips together and nodded. Thranduil rubbed his back. Bard squashed down the wish that he could feel those fingers on his bare skin. He sighed; he sipped his coffee. He didn't know why conflict had chosen that morning to settle in him. He'd been content in his growing attraction to the other man. That dream, though, had rattled him. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned his own tastes and preferences. 

_Do I enjoy control and dominance? Do I want to dominate Thranduil? Am I like Haldir? What if my preferences are too much for him, too? What if I hurt him? Will I ruin what we have if I tell him?..._

So many questions fluttered through his mind, making his head feel overfull. He grunted under his breath, under the strain of so many thoughts, and turned his attention to the father and daughter cooking. 

The smell of cooking pancakes drifted through the air. It must have reached the bedrooms, because one by one, his children appeared. They were smiling, but sleepy, and they were still wearing their pyjamas. Tilda rubbed her eyes with her fists before climbing into Thranduil's lap. He smiled and kissed the top of her head. 

"Good morning, Tilda," the blond murmured. "Did you sleep well?" 

She nodded and tucked her face into his shoulder. Bard smiled at the sight of them, despite the conflict in his thoughts, because Thranduil's surprised expression and his daughter's peace were so beautiful in that moment. 

"Morning," Bard said to his older children. He motioned to Sigrid's injuries. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replied. "My wrist's stiff, but I'll be fine." 

"You don't have to ride today if you don't want to," Thranduil told her. 

She smiled and shook her head. "I'm riding," she insisted. "You promised we'd work on flying lead changes today." 

"Alright," the blond said, smiling a bit. 

The first batch of pancakes was ready shortly after their exchange. Elrond put the platter on the table and Arwen brought over the maple syrup and a dish of whipped cream. Tilda saw the food and made a soft cooing noise in delight; she made no move towards the food, though, and Thranduil didn't jostle her or insist she take up her own chair to eat. 

"You should eat first," Thranduil told Bard. "If you still want to lunge Jane." 

"Are you---"

"Sure, yes. I can wait." 

Bard nodded. He saw Elrond watching them carefully, but the brunet didn't say anything. He took one pancake and slathered it in maple syrup; he knew it wouldn't be enough to sustain him through the morning, but it would be enough to tide him over until he could come back before his lessons. 

"So, I was thinking..." 

At Elrond's proclamation, Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Oh, here we go," he muttered. 

"I'm ignoring you," Elrond decided. They shared a glare before the darker man continued. "Anyway. I was thinking, Bard, you said you were planning on leaving tomorrow, but really, you should stay until Sunday if you can. We're going to have a turkey dinner tomorrow night and there will be plenty." 

Arwen smiled. "We'd be thrilled if you could stay and join us." 

"Oh. Well..." He caught sight of his children's eager faces. "We should be getting home. I have work and they have school to get ready for," he said, starting to decline the offer. When he saw Thranduil's eyes, and the hope in them, he knew he would be giving in and accepting. Another night with him, if he could control his thoughts and dreams to safer territory, was hard to refuse. He shrugged and smiled. "But... well, if you're sure we won't be an imposition..." 

"Excellent. And no, you won't be. The house is always better when it's full of laughter and we've all enjoyed having you here," Elrond assured him. "Besides, Finn will be glad to have an extra day with Tilda." 

"Ohhh, goodie," Tilda murmured sleepily. 

"Where is Finn?" Bard asked. 

"He and Aragorn went out to check the back of a couple pastures. It's hard to survey them by truck when there's snow," Arwen explained. "He left before the sun rose." 

Bard nodded and cut a bite of pancake. He ate it, barely managing to hold in his moan of satisfaction; it was delicious and when he told Arwen and Elrond so, they both grinned. 

He ate quickly after that. When he'd finished eating, he drained his coffee mug and brought both dishes to the sink. 

"That's all you're going to eat?" Arwen asked. 

"I'll come back for some of those blueberries later," he promised, making her smile again. "I want to lunge my mare before Sigrid rides her today. Just in case." 

"Dad, that's not nec---"

He turned and looked at Sigrid. The cut had some bruising around it. He forced himself to look away from it and into his daughter's eyes. "Just let me, alright?" he asked. "I'll feel better."

"Okay." 

He smiled. He kissed the tops of Sigrid's and Bain's heads, then rounded the table to kiss Tilda's cheek. Without hesitation, he pressed a kiss on Thranduil's temple, too, and then he headed to the porch where his outerwear was located. 

&&&

"Sit tall," Thranduil said from the middle of the arena as Bard walked into the area near the gate. "Your shoulders drive your hips, Laura, I know you've heard me say this before." 

Bard saw the young woman nod. 

"Now, we've worked on the simple lead change*, a lot of the principles are the same with the flying change**," he said to the group of five riders, Sigrid among them. "It is about shifting your weight and engaging the horse's hind end to free up the front end. I know your horses can do them, you've all done them before, as you've competed in classes where they're required, so today we'll work on polishing the maneuver like we've done with the simple change." 

Bard sat down on the bench next to someone who had ridden in Legolas' last class of the morning. They shared a smile before he turned his attention back to his daughter and the man in the middle of the ring. 

Sigrid smiled when she saw him. He'd watched some of Bain's class and he wanted to watch as much of Sigrid's as he could, too. He tried telling himself he wasn't watching Thranduil, but he knew better than to try too hard; he was there for the blond man as much as he was there for his oldest child. 

Thranduil saw him and waved, as if he knew Bard's thoughts and eyes were on him. Bard smiled and waved back. He took a small measure of delight from the way Thranduil needed a moment to gather his thoughts before addressing the class again. He turned his attention back to Sigrid, watching her in an english saddle, as she listened to Thranduil and followed his instructions. 

The instructor had them do two simple lead changes, reminding them all of how their weight should shift and their hand and leg cues should change. Sigrid was apart from the others because of the horse she was riding; the others were riding warmbloods, used to more contact through the reins, and she was on a horse clearly meant for different pursuits that needed a longer rein and a freer head. It didn't seem to matter to Thranduil. He made adjustments in his instructions for her without difficulty. His willingness to accommodate her was something Bard valued; he knew Thranduil was probably just being a thorough and understanding instructor, but he still appreciated the gesture. He knew some coaches would rarely bend, insisting that horse and rider under their tutelage obey their style and methods without adjustment. 

Bard grinned when Sigrid got Jane to do flying lead changes without a problem. She did her figure-eight smoothly, apart from a little moment around the top of one loop when Jane decided she didn't like being so close to one of the geldings in the class, and she grinned triumphantly before Thranduil could comment. 

"Yes, yes," the blond said, "you did well, Sigrid. Next time, I'd like to see a bit more bend through Jane's body in the loops, but for the most part, that was good."

Thranduil took the class through a few bending exercises at the trot before bringing them back, one at a time, to try the flying changes again. He found something complimentary to say to every rider, even the one who allowed his horse to break to a trot on the left-to-right lead change. 

When they were finished, he set up some pylons and gave them all an equitation pattern to try. Sigrid did well until it was time to do a full turn on the forehand. Jane struggled through the movement, and Sigrid had to bump her leg several times against Jane's side in scolding. 

"We'll try that again, Sigrid," Thranduil said to her. "Go again after Laura finishes." 

She nodded. 

Thranduil walked over to the gate. He smiled a bit. Bard smiled back. He rose to a standing position and leaned on the fence; Thranduil leaned his back against it so he was resting next to Bard. 

"Good class?"

"Yes," the blond murmured. "We seem to be ending on a positive note." 

Bard smiled more. "Good." 

"That's fine, Eric," Thranduil called out when the next rider finished the pattern. "Keep your head up, though, when you close off that circle. You have a tendency to keep your eyes on it and that brings your seat out of the saddle. If you want to try it again, you can go after Sigrid." 

Eric nodded and lined up along the wall, next to Sigrid. 

As Bard watched the other riders try the pattern Thranduil had set for them, he reached up and put his hand on the other man's lower back. He rubbed small circles over his puffy winter coat; Thranduil smiled at him but said nothing in response. 

When Sigrid went again, after Laura, he eased away from Bard and the gate. He was engaged in Bard's daughter's performance; Bard found himself smiling. 

Thranduil walked over to her and talked quietly with her when it was over. Sigrid walked away from him after thanking him. Bard could see her struggling to rein in a grin. He wondered what Thranduil said to her and filed away that question for later when the two men were alone. 

"Alright, Eric. Let's see you go again. Anyone else who wants to try again, feel free. We still have a few minutes of class." 

Sigrid shook her head and dismounted. She ran up the stirrups up the leathers and patted Jane's shoulder. 

When she arrived at the gate, Bard spoke. "Done?"

She nodded and smiled. "He said she deserved a break. That we both do." 

"Proper thing," Bard teased. He opened the gate and let her through. "I'll stay and watch the rest of the class." 

"You have showmanship next, right?" Sigrid asked. He nodded. "I can come back and---"

"Nope. I'll use Bain. Already discussed it with him. You go to the house and rest." 

Sigrid huffed. "Dad, I don't mind---"

"Well, I do. Go rest. Listen to music, read a book, do something fun." 

She huffed again. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder as she walked past him. By the time she made it into the barn's main aisle, though, he caught sight of her smile. After she disappeared from sight, the other riders began departing the arena, one by one. Bard stayed out of their way; he didn't close the gate after them until Thranduil walked through and stopped at his side. 

"Hi," the blond said quietly. 

"Hi back," Bard replied. He put his arm around Thranduil's waist and held him to his side. "So now, you're all done." 

"Thankfully." 

Bard smiled. "You look good out there." 

"I'm also frozen solid," Thranduil admitted. "And my favourite bed warmer will be busy all afternoon." 

"That means you can warm me up when I get back to the house." 

The blond smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

"I thought... well, this morning..." 

Bard looked around, saw that the other person who had been observing the class had left sometime after Bard stood up from the bench, and turned his attention back to Thranduil. "It wasn't your fault," Bard assured him. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was mad at you or anything like that." 

"You'll tell me about it?"

"You want to know what I was dreaming about?"

Thranduil nodded. "Yes. Especially if it upset you as much as it looked like it did." 

"You might not like hearing about it," Bard admitted, frowning. 

"You don't know that." 

"But---"

Thranduil put a finger to his lips. "Put it aside for now," he advised. "You'll work yourself up if you keep worrying about it." He paused for a moment before asking: "Are we good?"

Bard nodded. He pressed a kiss to the finger still resting over his mouth. He smiled when Thranduil smiled. 

"Good." Thranduil replaced his finger with his lips. He stole a quick and chaste kiss before he slipped from Bard's gentle hold. "I am going to go see if Miss Tilda will help me warm up," he declared. "She can usually be convinced to watch a movie or read a book." 

"I see how it is," Bard grumbled. "Ditch me for the next available source of warmth..." 

Thranduil chuckled. "Well, just think of it this way," he murmured as he leaned in closer. "I will be going back to the house to thaw and clean up, and when you get back... I can help you do the same." 

Bard groaned quietly. Thranduil gifted him with another kiss before slipping away. The reiner watched him walk, tempted to go after him; in that moment, it seemed being close to the other man was worth the risk of more strange (to him) thoughts and dreams. 

He pushed Thranduil's offer aside and prepared for the showmanship class. He set up pylons in a large square shape, so he could move the students around in a variety of straight and curved lines; he went over the names of his students again (because he was awful at remembering names of students until he'd had them in his classes for at least a month) and by the time he'd finished a second run through, his son and the rest of the class were coming into the arena with their horses. 

The class was spent practicing approaches to the judge. Bain was an excellent example, taking his father's instructions and praise with grace he didn't often show when they were alone, and by the end of the class, most of the students were showing improvement. 

Showmanship was quickly replaced with his first riding class of the afternoon. Bain waved to him as he left the barn, and Bard spared him a wave and a smile in reply before turning his attention to his students and the lesson of rollbacks*** they were going to learn that day. 

The first class was fun, and he wished he'd been riding in it, too, to show them a bit better how to ride but also for the sake of loping around and doing rollbacks. He always found them to be fun, on either Thor or Jane. 

By the time the first class was over, he'd decided to go get Thor tacked up. He rode through his second and third classes, Thor enjoying the reining aspects in the second more than the trail bits in the third; overall, though, it was a good time, and he was glad he was ending with the more advanced class, because it was a good note upon which to end the week of lessons. 

He spent some time riding Thor a bit more after the class. Lindir joined him on another horse---he'd been doing some riding for Elrond in the off-season---and they rode for almost an hour together. They didn't talk much, but every once and a while, they conversed enough for Bard to learn a little more about the younger man. 

Bard's phone buzzed in his pocket when he was dismounting. He pulled out the device when both feet were on the ground. 

_You are coming back, right?_  

Bard smiled and quickly typed out a response. _Yes. I'm just putting Thor away. Had to ride a bit to keep from freezing._

_I have your warm up waiting for you. Go to your room first. Don't dawdle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A simple lead change demonstration can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPYWOVcmLm4). 
> 
> ** A flying lead change demonstration can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTmc5SPzhiI).
> 
> *** An example of a rollback can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qGic7vj8Ik).
> 
> I hope nobody hates me too much for the beginning bit. I hope the next chapter, when it comes, makes up for it. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil warms (and cleans) Bard up...

Uncertain feet carried him back to the farmhouse after he'd groomed his horse. He hesitated in the porch, taking his time with the removal of his outer layers; he lingered in the kitchen, taking the time to grab a drink of water from the fridge and a cookie from the counter. He wanted to check on his children, but it seemed they were busy playing a board game with Arwen; even Legolas was deep in conversation, listening and talking quietly with Aragorn in turn, both of them tucked away in the den and oblivious to others. Unable to find Elrond or Gandalf, to see if they would be willing to provide a reason to dawdle, he sighed and took himself up the stairs. 

Thranduil's last text had told him to go into his bedroom. He trusted the other man, but he was also nervous. Would Thranduil ask him what had been on his mind since early that morning? Would he tell him and ruin what they were building? He didn't have answers to those questions, and he wish he did, so he'd know what to expect when entering his bedroom. 

That the bedroom was empty was not what he expected. There was a note, though, on the bed. 

_Finally. Change for bed. And take the staircase at the other end of the hall. I'll meet you there. -T._

Confused but curious, Bard obeyed the other man's written instructions. He undressed and slipped on his flannel pyjama pants and the loose tank top he'd abandoned when Thranduil insisted upon its absence. He tugged off his socks and tossed them towards his bag. Then, he loosened his hair from its ponytail; he tried taming the unruly curls with his fingers before putting the mess back up into a loose bun. 

A few minutes later, he was padding down the hall. He had taken notice of the other set of stairs when he arrived on Sunday, but he'd assumed that area was none of his business---perhaps it was space for rooms for Elrond's children---and hadn't even asked about it. He could smell vanilla and spice as he travelled higher, but it wasn't until he heard water running that he started to piece things together. 

Thranduil walked through a doorway after the top stair creaked and signalled Bard's arrival. His skin was damp and rosy; he looked warm. He smiled at Bard. "Wait a minute here," he said, "alright?"

Bard nodded. Thranduil's smile stretched. He leaned in and pecked his cheek, a quick touch of lips to face, and disappeared back into the other room. He heard splashing and a steady stream of water being turned off, slowing to a few drops before ceasing completely. There was a metallic flicking, several times, and then Thranduil reappeared. 

"Close your eyes." 

"What---"

"Please?"

Bard smiled a bit. "Thran, what's going on?"

"You trust me?"

"You know I do. Yes." 

Thranduil's smile returned. "Put yourself in my hands tonight. Please?"

"What about---"

"Elrond's ordering chinese for everyone later. Sigrid said she'd make sure Tilda and Bain got to bed if I could get you to actually relax," the blond interrupted. When Bard opened his mouth to protest Sigrid's involvement in the other man's scheme, Thranduil put his fingers over his mouth. "I only told her that I wanted to do something nice for you. I didn't go into details and I was very clear that we could be found easily and without interrupting anything if there was an emergency." 

Bard felt his face flush guiltily. He should have known, since Thranduil was a father, himself, that he'd handle the situation well enough. "Oh. I... sorry," he mumbled. 

The blond looked more amused than anything else. He brushed his fingers over Bard's lower lip briefly before pulling his hand away. 

"So... close your eyes?" 

Bard nodded and obeyed. Thranduil rewarded him with a pleased hum. He took Bard's hands in his own and started moving towards the door to what must have been another bathroom. Bard took shuffling, uncertain steps at first, but as he settled, he walked with more fluidity. 

"If you want me to stop, just tell me," the other man added. Bard's tension increased without his permission. Thranduil must have seen physical proof of that tension, because a moment later, he spoke again. "Bard, I wouldn't do anything without your consent." 

"I know," he mumbled. 

Thranduil shut a door---to the doorway he'd walked through to greet Bard, the reiner gathered---and then put his hands on Bard's shoulders as he walked around him. Bard felt incredibly exposed, strangely enough, with his eyes closed; but he knew that not having to see the look of rejection on Thranduil's face might be the only way he could get through telling him what had been on his mind since waking up that morning. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bard insisted. 

"Liar. Is it what I told you about---"

"No!" Bard answered before Thranduil could even finish asking his question. He groaned and dropped his head. "It's nothing you did or said, I swear." 

"Well, Bard, something's wrong." 

"I had a dream, alright?" Bard blurted out. He tried to get the explanation out in one breath, one rush of words. "And it was in bed and you were there and I bit your neck _hard_ and I liked it and I've never done anything like that before but I can't stop thinking about it and I'm sor---" 

Thranduil's arms went around his body. Bard stopped abruptly, surprised by the other man's actions. "You've been worried about this all day?"

"Uh... yeah." 

"Idiot," Thranduil whispered fondly. 

Bard tucked his face into Thranduil's neck. "Well, after everything you said about _him_ being too much---"

Thranduil kissed his shoulder. "Idiot," he repeated. "You had a dream, probably to help you process everything that we talked about and... well, us," he said quietly, "and instead of just enjoying it for what it was, you freaked out because you were afraid you have latent kinks and letting them out will be too much for me to handle." 

"Maybe?"

"I'm going to kiss you now. Because... I have to. It's a written rule somewhere." 

"Thran?"

Thranduil's lips landed on Bard's, firmly at first but softening with each brushing touch. Bard had to open his eyes---to make sure Thranduil was actually fine with what he'd told him---and when he did, he noticed the other man's hair was glowing in soft orange light. He pulled his focus wider and saw candles lit around a bathroom that contained an old fashioned, claw-footed tub that was full of frothy, steaming bubbles. The large windows faced West, so everything was glowing in the sunset; everything looked warm and soft and comfortable. 

Affected by the effort, Bard cupped Thranduil's face in his hands and kissed him back. Thranduil purred and slid his arms up to his neck. 

"You did all this?"

"I wasn't about to let Elrond help." 

Bard chuckled. "No, I mean... even after I kind of freaked out this morning---"

"Yes, you were dreadful." 

"Thran." 

The blond shrugged. "You had me worried this morning and I wasn't sure if this would be alright," he admitted. "But, now that I know why you were acting strange, it's all fine." 

Bard closed his eyes and sighed in relief. Thranduil chuckled softly; he kissed over Bard's eyebrow. "Now, can I tell you something? It might help you relax a bit more," Thranduil added quietly, whispering against Bard's hairline. When Bard nodded, Thranduil's lips curved against his skin. "As long as you don't draw blood or do it in delicate locations where damage can be done, I'm usually good with biting," he whispered. 

He chuckled more when Bard shivered in reaction. "It's alright," Thranduil said, continuing to assure him. "And I love that I was in the starring role in your dream."

"What if we don't... or our likes don't---"

"What if you like something I don't?" the other man asked when Bard broke off, frustrated with himself for being unable to put the words together. 

"Well... yeah." 

Thranduil shrugged. "Then, we'll work it out. It won't be the end of the world." He kissed Bard's forehead again before easing away from the reiner. "Now. Stop worrying. Can you try that?"

"I..." he trailed off, saw the hopeful look on the other man's face, and nodded. "I can try," he whispered. 

"Good. So, I'm going to undress you and you're going to get into the tub, if you're alright with that," Thranduil told him quietly. His hands stroked up and down Bard's sides and back, reassuring him in ways the man's voice and words could not. "And then, I'd like to wash your hair and body. Again, if you're alright with that." 

"Why?"

"Well, I suspect you'd enjoy it more if you were alright with it happening." 

Bard smiled. Thranduil smirked. 

"Honestly, I've been wanting to get my hands on your body since we met," he confessed. At that admission, Bard laughed a little, feeling both flattered and surprised. Thranduil shared a smile with him and continued talking. "This is a compromise. And a way for me to help you relax," he murmured. "You work very hard and I'd like to do something nice." 

"But, you work ha---"

Thranduil put a finger to his lips. He stopped talking. The blond smiled. "Then, some time in the future, you are free to return the favour if the mood strikes you." 

"Alright," Bard whispered. 

"Would you prefer if I leave and let you get in?" Thranduil asked. 

"I'm not some blushing virgin," Bard huffed, hoping he sounded more amused than annoyed. 

The taller of the pair smiled. "I know," he murmured. He put his hands on the hem of Bard's top. "May I?" 

Bard nodded. Thranduil grinned and tugged; Bard barely had time to lift his arms before the garment was being pulled over his head and tossed behind him. It wasn't strange, to be shirtless in front of Thranduil, so the reiner didn't feel uncomfortable; he saw the way Thranduil's eyes softened and darkened and he was encouraged by the expression. 

When Thranduil's fingers slipped over his chest, trailing through the hair on its surface, Bard closed his eyes. He felt Thranduil's hands map out his body, more methodically than anything else; the other man avoided places that tensed upon contact and lingered in places that relaxed under his fingers. He rubbed sore muscles in Bard's back and arms; he kissed Bard's shoulder. 

His lips pressed into Bard's waist. The darker man opened his eyes in surprise and saw Thranduil kneeling at his side. 

Bard nodded. Thranduil smiled softly and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his loose pants. He slid them down slowly, his eyes taking in his whole body but not lingering in any one place. He wasn't clinical in his touching, but he was careful and thorough. He rubbed his fingers over Bard's ankles and calves, before kneading into his thigh muscles. He squeezed Bard's ass, grinning when Bard had to suck in a sharp breath of surprise, but it was the scar over his right hip that drew most of his attention. 

"Hip replacement?" Thranduil asked. 

"Ah, no, not yet," Bard said on a chuckle. "Just a couple pins and some screws. I broke it in the accident." 

Thranduil nodded. He leaned in and kissed over the scar. Bard groaned; his pulse was quickening and he knew he was showing signs of arousal. 

"Mmm, alright," Thranduil murmured against his hip. "Into the tub with you." 

Bard eased away from him and climbed into the tub. He fumbled once, but decided that was a victory; it could have been much worse, he knew, with the weight of Thranduil's hungry gaze on him. 

Thranduil joined him once his body was hidden by the bubbles. After kneeling, he picked up a cloth and a bottle of liquid soap; he started with Bard's legs, gently scrubbing the sudsy cloth over each lifted leg, and then he moved onto Bard's torso. 

"God, Thran..." 

The blond chuckled. "Good?" 

"Very." 

Bard closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the rim of the tub. When Thranduil lifted one of his arms, he reached out and stopped him from scrubbing by taking one of the blond's hands in his. 

"Thank you," he whispered. 

"I'm enjoying this, too," Thranduil confessed. He smiled slyly when Bard opened his eyes. "This is one of the things I've always wanted to do... but could never find someone who would see its worth, or who would be worth sharing it with." 

Bard brought Thranduil's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. He didn't know what to say in response, but he knew Thranduil's words were important. He was thrilled the other man trusted him enough to show him what he wanted; he was relieved it was something he could savour without feeling pressure for more. 

Thranduil's cheeks flushed. He took his hand back and resumed washing Bard's arm. Then, he moved to the other side of the tub and repeated the process. 

When he was finished, he urged Bard to lean forward. The reiner pulled his knees up, resting his arms around them and his forehead upon his arms. 

The blond started with the cloth, but ended with his hands. His fingers slid against Bard's back, aided by the slippery soap, digging into sore muscles and soothing their aches. 

Bard was somewhat aware he'd been making quiet noises through the proceedings. When Thranduil found a particularly tense muscle group in his lower back, he blushed when he moaned loudly. 

"We will be revisiting this in stage two," Thranduil murmured. 

"Stage two?" 

"Mmhmm." 

Thranduil guided him back against the tub. Then, he released Bard's hair from its elastic. He picked up a cup from the floor and filled it with water from the bath. Using one hand to shield Bard's eyes, he poured the water over Bard's head. He repeated that, over and over, until Bard's hair was fully saturated. 

He washed Bard's hair with the same care he had applied to the man's body. Every time Bard groaned, growled, or purred (and Bard was sure he would later deny making those last types of sounds), Thranduil laughed softly and repeated whatever he'd done to elicit such a response. 

When it was time to rinse his hair, Thranduil took care to do so with fresh water from the tap. He applied a light conditioner and pressed a kiss to the top of Bard's head. 

"C'm'ere," Bard insisted quietly. 

Thranduil moved around until he was at Bard's side. The darker man put a hand out, tugging him close. He kissed Thranduil's forehead and then his lips. 

"Thank you," he whispered. 

"We're not done yet." 

"Oh?"

Thranduil offered him the cloth. "I thought it might be too personal or invasive for me to clean you... _thoroughly_." 

Bard bit his lower lip as he considered Thranduil's words. Their conversation before the bath, as well as the warmth and attention Thranduil provided during the event itself, had left him feeling brave and cherished and safe. With only a little hesitation, he parted his legs and closed his eyes. He heard Thranduil's soft sigh, slightly tinged with a whimper, and he smiled. A moment later, Thranduil began to work---and it was Bard who was making noises. 

Thranduil slid his hands down into the water. With the help of the cloth, he carefully cleaned the parts of Bard's body he'd tactfully avoided earlier. He parted the man's legs more, rubbed soap along his inner thighs and higher, letting his fingers linger but not doing anything to purposefully torture him. 

By the time he was ensuring no concentration of suds was against his skin, Bard was flushed and breathing deeply. It was hard not to react to the stimulation, but it was more than that; he'd never had anyone clean him in such a way. When he'd been in the accident, nurses helped clean his body, but with Thranduil it was different. It was caring and intimate and something he knew he'd never share with another person as long as he lived. 

Thranduil was blushing, too, when he finished. Knowing he wanted to thank the man, but not having the right words to give his feelings justice, he reached out and took the cloth from Thranduil's hand before threading their fingers together. 

He knew then, for certain, that he was falling for the other man. It wasn't a fleeting romantic attraction or the aftereffects of such a relaxing moment; he was falling for Thranduil, with all his layers and charms, and he thought (hoped) it was mutual. 

"I'm going to braid your hair, and then it's time for stage two," the blond murmured. 

"Anything you want, Thran." 

Instead of joking or making a suggestive comment, Thranduil's face softened. It looked like his eyes were glistening a bit more than they usually did; before Bard could ask if he'd said something wrong, he was being kissed. 

Without another word, Thranduil slipped behind him. He slowly rinsed Bard's hair again; he carefully combed the wet curls with his fingers. After a light massage to the top of Bard's head, he began braiding the dark (but slightly greying) mop. When he was finished, Thranduil kissed the nape of his neck. 

"Can you stand?" he asked quietly, and a little teasingly. 

Bard chuckled. "I dunno. My brain feels a little disconnected from the rest of me, still, to be honest." 

Thranduil snorted. 

He helped Bard stand, drained the tub, and then proceeded to dry Bard's body with a fluffy blue towel. When he helped Bard dress---and ignored the reiner's huff of amusement---he pouted a little. His pout disappeared, though, when Bard pulled him close for a hug. 

When it was time to leave the bathroom, candles extinguished and linens in the hamper, Thranduil turned to him and started to ask a question. 

"Would you prefer if I check to see if anyone's---"

"Just walk with me," Bard interrupted. He smiled. "I'm so relaxed, I might fall down the stairs." 

Thranduil smiled. He nodded. 

They made their way into Bard's assigned bedroom, where Thranduil immediately dimmed the lights. He went to the closet and pulled out a large bath towel. When it was spread out on the middle of the bed, he instructed Bard to take his shirt off and lie down. 

"Stage two?" 

The blond grinned at him. He busied himself with a couple of bottles of some sort of liquid---Bard wasn't really paying close attention---and the reiner obeyed his directions. 

Thranduil joined him a minute later. He settled down at Bard's side. 

"Tell me if anything hurts," Thranduil murmured. 

Bard hummed his assent. He'd learned that Thranduil's hands were lethal weapons of the seductive arts during his bath, and feeling him carefully work at tensed, knotted muscles only confirmed the lesson. He groaned and moaned and even whimpered as Thranduil worked; his mind and body were turning to jelly and he was unable (and unwilling) to resist. 

"Turn over," the other man whispered. 

Without hesitation---but with a hint of embarrassment when he realised he was demonstrating another physical reaction to the continuation of bliss being bestowed upon him---he rolled onto his front. 

Thranduil smirked but said nothing. He applied a bit more oil to his hands and worked at his chest and sides. He smiled as his hands stroked and kneaded down to his waist, going no further even if his eyes lingered in certain places. 

"Thran, if I could purr, I would," he whispered. "Let me return the favour." 

"Not tonight," Thranduil murmured. He pushed his fingertips into Bard's pectoral muscles and elicited a groan from him. "But, another time, I won't say no." 

"Come here," Bard whispered. 

"I'm already here." 

Bard grunted. He tugged at Thranduil's clothes until the man was straddling his hips. The pressure and friction of such contact was delicious. 

"And now what?" Thranduil inquired. 

"Kiss me," he murmured. 

"And then what?"

"I don't know. Just come closer."

Thranduil snorted quietly. "I'll get oil on my shirt," he said in a teasing tone. "I don't know if I want to get too close to you."

"Take it off," Bard suggested. 

He'd felt both lazy and bold, but when Thranduil pulled off his shirt and exposed _so much_ pale skin, both feelings gave way to impatience. A glance into Thranduil's face told him the sentiment had not gone unnoticed; the blond man reached down and stroked over his sternum. Whatever attraction had been slowly building suddenly felt like _too much_ and _not enough_ at the same time. Bard had known the man was aesthetically pleasing and he'd felt attraction to him growing as they grew closer, but in that moment, he was relaxed and pliant and hungry. 

He _wanted_. 

"Ohh." 

At that sound, he lifted his eyes to Thranduil's face. The man sitting astride him was watching him with darkening eyes. A flush started in his cheeks and travelled down his neck and past his collarbones. Bard wanted to sit up and taste the skin there but had to settle for brushing his hand over the border between rose and cream. 

"Alright?" Bard asked quietly. 

Thranduil nodded quickly, firmly. He smiled and took Bard's hand in his own. There were versions of Thranduil that Bard was getting used to seeing; most people saw the cool and collected facade, but he'd seen the sleepy, nervous, and predatorial versions, too. And that night, he was seeing more of the softer (younger) version of the man---the version of the man that seemed unsure, but hopeful and yearning. Bard couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss him or hold him close. 

And then he remembered he could do both at the same time. 

As he remembered, though, Thranduil decided to suck at the tips of his fingers. He groaned and coherent thought escaped him; Thranduil smiled and lowered their hands. 

"Come closer," Bard whispered. 

The blond straddling him grinned before yielding to his request. When their chests touched, Bard swallowed hard. Bare chest to bare chest felt much more sinful than clothed back to bare chest. If he hadn't already been very aware that he was with a man, it would have been very clear as soon as Bard registered a hardness pressing against his own. Thranduil didn't thrust, but he did shudder; Bard felt it through his hips and torso and reactions to it flitted through the rest of his body. 

Bard put his hands on Thranduil's sides and experimentally stroked. Soft, warm skin slipped past his fingers. Thranduil kissed his lips, then his chin, before tucking his face into Bard's neck and shoulder and remaining pliant. He exhaled; the breath made Bard shiver. 

"Warmed up?" Thranduil asked teasingly. 

Bard chuckled. "Very." 

"Mmm, good." 

"Can we..." Bard started to ask, but trailed off. He exhaled slowly and considered the request teetering on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to give into his impulse---it was almost hurting his heart not to yield to it---but he was struck with the concerns of someone who didn't want to rile unnecessarily, when nothing more would be happening that night. "Nevermind," he whispered. 

Thranduil nosed along Bard's scruffy jawline. "What do you want?" he asked. 

"I want to kiss you some more," Bard said, sighing as Thranduil found a sensitive place to nuzzle beneath his ear. 

"Unless we're in a situation where it's inappropriate, I strongly doubt you'll ever need to ask permission to kiss me," he murmured. 

With that to reassure him, he cupped the back of Thranduil's head. Tightening his grip slightly in the blond hair, he guided the other man's head up so he could kiss him properly. Thranduil's lips slanted over his and parted on a breathy noise; Bard rumbled in pleasure, in reaction. 

Feeling more confident of the situation and of the man above him, Bard deepened the kiss. First, he flicked his tongue over Thranduil's lower lip; then, when Thranduil yielded to him, he licked into Thranduil's mouth. Thranduil responded in kind and their embrace took on a slightly filthy tone. 

He pulled back after nipping at Thranduil's lower lip, banking the fire between them with brushes of noses and gentle caresses of his free hand. Thranduil strained forward but Bard used the hand still tangled in his hair to hold him in position. Being restrained, Bard noted, made Thranduil whine and wriggle. 

"Easy," Bard whispered. 

Thranduil nodded. He gave another (particularly delicious, in Bard's opinion) wriggle before stilling completely and taking a deep breath. Bard guided Thranduil's head to rest upon his shoulder before releasing his hair and stroking over the mess he'd made of the pale tresses. 

"Do you want anything?" Thranduil asked. "Food or a drink?" 

"Just this," Bard whispered. 

He rubbed a hand along Thranduil's spine. He felt little imperfections in the skin and wanted to ask if they were from his accident, but didn't want to ruin the moment. He kept stroking, not hesitating, and he smiled as Thranduil relaxed a little more. 

"Thank you for tonight. You spoiled me rotten." 

Thranduil chuckled. "That was my intent." He reached up and brushed his fingers blindly over Bard's face. "Get some rest," he suggested. "We can raid the fridge for leftovers later." 

Bard nodded. Thranduil slipped to his side, but kept himself wrapped around his body. When Bard turned towards him, Thranduil adjusted. When he opened his eyes and saw Thranduil watching him with a smile, he smiled back. 

Still smiling, Bard closed his eyes and relaxed into the warmth and affectionate mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> Also, I made two mixes for this series! There are probably going to be more for later stories, but for now, here are a couple of playlists of music I sometimes listen to when writing this story: [Vol. 1, Side A](http://8tracks.com/crushing83/spins-pirouettes-vol-1-side-a); [Vol. 1, Side B](http://8tracks.com/crushing83/spins-pirouettes-vol-1-side-b).


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the last day at Rivendell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been busy with work and real life... and I've been struggling with the end of this story (as I'm not ready for Bard and Thranduil to go their separate ways yet).

After a slow wake-up and an amiable breakfast, everyone seemed to go their own way. Arwen roped Legolas and Thranduil into helping her with the vegetables for their turkey dinner, while Aragorn rode out into one of the other pastures on the pretense of checking more of the distant fences (with Finn tagging along interestedly). Bard left his children in the house, and followed Elrond and Gandalf down to the stables. He wanted to work both Thor and Jane in case his children decided to ride---but he was also looking forward to riding by himself for more than a few minutes. 

He'd ridden the mare for an hour when he heard the sounds of his children's laughter in the barn. He smiled into his jacket and turned Jane towards the center of the arena. After a large and slow circle, he urged her into a flying lead change and did a circle the other way; once that slow circle was closed, he urged her into an extended gait and into another circle. Jane snorted and swished her tail but she increased her speed. When he rounded the middle of his figure eight again, he asked for another flying lead change and slowed her down to a more collected lope. As he expected, Jane swished and snorted, frustrated with the change in speed, but he stayed quiet and firm and eventually she quieted, too. 

When he loped around the short end of the arena (and the top of his figure eight), he continued straight down the rail and pushed the mare for more speed. 

When they were nearing the corner, he sat back and tall; he asked her to stop with his body and she obeyed. Even without sliding plates on her back feet, she slid a little. 

Bard grinned to himself, did a rollback, and loped off again in the other direction. 

"Good girl," he murmured. 

He continued in that vein, performing reining manoeuvres he didn't often get to do with her and riding for the sake of enjoying it, until he spied his children at the gate. After one more sliding stop---which earned a small bit applause from the three of them---he guided Jane to the gate at a walk. 

"How is she?" Sigrid asked. 

"Oh, fine. Did you want to ride?"

She smiled. "I'll wait. Elrond is going to show us some of the younger horses." 

"Well, I hope he checks all of your pockets on our way out of here," Bard joked. 

Tilda grinned, giggling a little. "Da! A filly can't fit in my pocket!" 

Bard chuckled. "If anyone could manage it, you would," he joked. 

He dismounted the mare and patted her damp neck. Jane snuffled and turned her muzzle to his jacket pockets; Bard smiled, nudged her away, and walked her to the gate. Sigrid unlatched it and walked towards them. She reached for the reins, but Bard hesitated. 

"Go on," he suggested. "I can put her away." 

"But, I could---"

"Go look at the babies. Keep your brother and sister from sneaking one out of here." 

Sigrid smirked. "And how do you know I won't be the one to steal one of the yearlings?"

He laughed softly. "I don't," he admitted. "God, go easy on your poor father, will you?"

Her smirk softened into a grin. "Yeah, yeah, alright," she agreed. 

She squeezed his arm before stepping back, taking her siblings with her. Bard watched them turn and walk down another aisle; he could hear Elrond and Legolas greeting them as he took Jane down the aisle where her stall was located. 

He lost himself in the routine of untacking and grooming the mare. He took his time, using a curry comb to loosen her sweat-encrusted coat and then using a stiff dandy brush and a softer brush after to smooth and shine it. He checked her legs, picked out her hooves, and then spent a bit of time brushing her face. Jane sighed contentedly and leaned into his arm as he rubbed between her eyes, the soft brush abandoned as he finished with her face. 

"Good girl," he murmured. "Let's get your blanket on and I'll see about finding you some hay." 

With a pat to her cheek, he stepped back and sought her blanket, with had been hanging nearby. He put it on her, fastened the straps, and unclipped her from the crossties. 

Once Jane was in her stall, he made good on his promise of hay. He tossed a flake of it in over the stall door; she'd been drinking water but quickly dropped her head to investigate the food. Bard smiled, watching her, and then he turned his attention to Thor. 

"I'll come back for you," he promised as he rubbed Thor's nose. "We'll have a little ride. Work on our spins or something." 

Thor snuffled, as if in response. Bard smiled, patted the side of his head lightly, and turned to go find his children. 

It didn't take long to find where they'd disappeared. The younger horses had been moved to the indoor arena once it had been vacated; his children were leaning on the gate, watching as Elrond free-lunged them, whip in his hand but unmoving, apart from the odd swish. He clucked and kissed, making noises they were meant to associate with moving forward. 

"I like the roan. Lindir will do well with him in the futurities." 

Bard turned. On the bench, Thranduil was sitting, focused on the young horses. His legs were crossed, his hands were on the railing, and his eyes were narrowed in concentration. 

"But not me?" Elrond asked. 

Thranduil snorted. "You haven't shown in lunge line futurities in years." 

"Doesn't mean I can't." 

The blond smirked. "Fine. Sure. You'll do well with him, too. His hind end is huge... he'll grow into it. Nice and tall... and he seems to move off at your urging." 

He motioned to a bay colt. "You should sell that one. Trouble." 

Elrond laughed. "Legolas said he liked that one." 

"Yes, sell him." 

Elrond continued to laugh as he worked. Thranduil turned, saw Bard, and smiled. 

"How was your ride?" he asked. 

Bard smiled back at him. "Good. I forget that it's fun... today's been a good reminder," he said as he joined Thranduil on the bench. "Picking one out for yourself?" 

Thranduil snorted. "Hardly. I haven't seen them since they were born... I wanted to see how they were coming." 

"The roan's your favourite?" 

"Despite his colouring, yes." 

Bard chuckled. "Not a fan of red roans?" 

"Nope. Hideous colour. Blue roan is marginally less bad." 

"So... dun and palomino..." 

"A little less awful." 

Bard laughed softly. "Colour snob," he murmured teasingly. 

Thranduil sniffed, but he was smiling a little. With Elrond came over to them, his smile didn't fade; the brunet smiled back at his old friend and greeted Bard. 

"Nice lot," Bard commented. "Have a favourite?" 

Elrond shrugged. "I like the roan, I think. His sire is a good horse, so he has plenty of potential. Lindir and Legolas like the bay... but Thranduil might be right about him being trouble." 

"You could always geld him sooner rather than later," the blond suggested. 

Elrond nodded. "I've considered it," he admitted. He smiled and shrugged again. "I have my hopes for next show season set on one of the fillies," he added. "I'll bring them out once the boys are put away." 

"The chestnut?" 

"The sorrel," Elrond told his old friend. "Gandalf likes the chestnut, but I don't think she's going to grow tall enough to be a good fit for any of my riders. Her front end's almost grown into her hind end, and it wasn't that much taller to begin with." 

"Might be a good starter horse, for a smaller rider, if she's quiet enough," Bard reasoned. 

Elrond smiled and nodded. "I hope to sell her on our next trip to the Shire. Some of Gandalf's contacts have been asking about her." 

At the sound of Tilda's soft laughter, Bard turned his head. The roan colt was nuzzling her palm, his fuzzy lips wiggling over the flat surface of her hand; he smiled, watching them, and his smile stretched when he saw Sigrid and Bain discussing something pertaining to the confirmation of one of the others. He was proud of his children, amazed by them on a daily basis, even, and while he didn't want his life for them, seeing how much they'd learned and how much they loved horses made him feel as if his heart was swelling. 

"A family of horsemen," Elrond commented quietly. 

Bard chuckled and turned his attention back to the other man. "Hopefully not forever," he confessed. "I want them all to go to college and find a less unpredictable way to make a living." 

"My sons went that way," the owner of the facility said. He sighed and shrugged. "It's easier, and harder. I still don't know what Arwen will decide." 

"Legolas laughed when I suggested university," Thranduil added quietly. "We'd finally found good help, hired Tauriel, and when I told him the farm would run without him so he could give school a try, he laughed." 

Bard smiled. "He strikes me as someone who knows what he wants and goes after it, no matter what anyone else thinks." 

"To a fault, at times." 

"He did eventually start taking night classes, though," Elrond added, smiling. 

"Thankfully," Thranduil murmured. 

"As long as they're happy, right?" Bard said after a little chuckle. 

"It's the most we can hope for," Elrond agreed. The bay colt approached him; as if sensing he was no longer alone, he turned. "And what do you want?" he asked the near-yearling. 

The colt gave him a sideways glance, turned on his hind legs, and exploded off in a gallop interrupted by bucks and kicks. He stirred up some of the others, and they were running around on their own within moments. 

The roan lifted his head---he'd given up on Tilda's palm but decided her fingers were good as long as they kept scratching his face---and looked at them, but after a swish of his tail he turned back to the young girl on the other side of the fence. 

Bard smiled. "I think I like him, too. Seems quiet." 

"Lazy," Elrond suggested. 

"But, that's preferable to batshit crazy," Thranduil muttered. 

Bard and Elrond laughed.

&&&

After watching the fillies and a ride on Thor, Bard found himself back at the arena gate. He was watching Bain and Sigrid ride their horses, both back in their western (and familiar) saddles.

"Sigrid?" he called out. "How does she feel to you?" 

The teenager shrugged. "Alright, I guess. Maybe she's falling out in the hind end?" 

"Yeah, she's a little disconnected. She's tired... two rides today, plus a busy week. Put your legs on her a bit more, but remember to sit heavy in the saddle so she doesn't speed up." 

She nodded. When she got Jane jogging in a better fashion, he smiled and praised her. Bain loped past on Thor; the pair of them looked good and Bard told them so. 

He watched them, keeping the more unimportant bits of advice to himself and only speaking up when absolutely necessary. He wanted them to have a good time and not feel like they were in a lesson. He was a coach, but he tried to keep his vocation limited to times when they asked for assistance or needed it. They were good riders, for the most part, so it wasn't difficult to keep his mouth shut. 

When Thranduil came up beside him, he turned his head and smiled. 

"How are they doing?" he asked. 

"Good," Bard replied. He shrugged. "They're having fun. I'm just... observing. Mostly." 

"You're doing better than I do when I watch Legolas," Thranduil admitted, smiling. Bard smiled, but it faltered when Thranduil's brow furrowed. He started to ask what was wrong, but the blond quickly spoke. "Would it be alright if... well, Tilda asked if I could give her a 'proper English lesson.'" 

Bard smiled again. "She did, did she?" 

Thranduil nodded. Bard chuckled. "Well, if Bain's done on---"

"We can use one of Elrond's lesson horses," Thranduil interrupted quietly. "He has a few I'd have let Legolas ride when he was her age."

Bard snorted. "High praise." He nudged Thranduil with his hip. "Go ahead. Just make sure she wears a helmet."

"Obviously." 

He smiled. Thranduil put a gloved hand on his forearm. He squeezed enough so that Bard could feel the gesture through his coat and then released him; he walked away and the reiner turned his attention back to his older children riding in the arena. 

It was only about fifteen minutes later when Thranduil, Tilda, and an old dappled grey gelding (who Bard learned was named Biscuit) appeared behind him. Tilda was tugging on her helmet and chattering excitedly; Thranduil was leading Biscuit and responding when the girl's words required it. 

Bard didn't realise he was grinning his cheeks started to ache. He blushed and ducked his head; he wanted to keep watching, but he was concerned he'd do or say something over-the-top and he felt it was too early in their relationship for such things. 

"Da!" Tilda squeaked. 

Bard looked at his daughter. He bent down and helped her prepare by fastening the chin strap of her helmet. 

"You ready?" he asked her. 

She nodded. He smiled and patted her protected head. "Be good and listen to everything Thranduil tells you," he advised. She nodded again. "And have fun." 

Tilda grinned. He straightened and opened the gate for her and Thranduil and Biscuit. Thranduil smiled at him as they passed; he smiled back and waited for them to pass by him before latching the gate shut again. 

Thranduil stopped them in the middle of the arena. He pulled the stirrups of the english saddle down their leather straps; he looked down at Tilda for a minute before returning to the stirrup leathers and shortening them. Once they were adjusted---and much shorter---he asked Tilda if she wanted a step-stool or a leg up so she could mount Biscuit. 

"Stool, please." 

Bard hid his grin in his arms, tucking his face into them as they were folded on top of the gate. Thranduil gave Tilda the reins and went to find the stool; it was tucked under the fence in the corner and it only took a minute for him to bring it back to her. Tilda climbed up, stuck her foot in the metal stirrup (with only a little acrobatics) and reached for the pommel and cantle. 

Thranduil cleared his throat. "Try to move your left hand---and the reins---into Biscuit's mane," he advised. 

Tilda corrected her position, gave a little hop, and launched herself into the saddle. She grinned; Thranduil smiled back at her. 

"How do those stirrups feel?" he asked her. 

"Shorter than usual." 

Thranduil chuckled. "Take your feet out, let's measure," he suggested. She dropped her stirrups; Thranduil held the iron of one to her foot. "They should fall here," he said, pointing to a spot on her foot. "I misjudged. Let me fix that?"

Tilda nodded. Bard watched them work together, Tilda shifting her weight in the saddle and keeping her legs out of Thranduil's way while he lengthened the straps a bit on each side. When Thranduil finished, he helped her put her feet back into the stirrups. 

"Still short." 

"This isn't western," Thranduil reminded her. "For now, this is a good length. If you still want me to put them longer, I can. But, Legolas keeps his shorter when he jumps, so he can lift out of the saddle to help his horse over the obstacles." 

The young girl's eyebrows lifted. "Oh. Okay, then." 

Bard and Thranduil shared a brief look of amusement, across the arena, before the blond turned his attention back to Tilda. He told her---and then showed her---how he'd like her to hold the reins and how she should sit in the saddle. She took in all the information with a determined look on her face. 

"Are you ready?" he asked the girl. 

She nodded. 

Thranduil smiled. "Walk in a circle around me. A big one, so you take Biscuit almost to the wall, but not quite. We don't want to get in the way of Bain and Sigrid." 

Tilda nodded again. She squeezed Biscuit's sides with her legs and walked off on the circle Thranduil suggested. The blond kept facing her, turning with her as she walked, and he talked to her about how different the saddle felt the whole time. 

"I like it!" Tilda decided. 

The instructor smiled at her. "Your father's going to be so disappointed you won't take up reining." 

"Oh, no, I'm going to do it all," she announced. 

Bard chuckled. "Whatever you want, Tilda," he said from the gate. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. Bard grinned. He knew he was prone to indulging his children---Tilda, especially, because the other two didn't often give him a chance to anymore---but he didn't care. They were happy, and that was the important thing. If Tilda wanted to ride in both english and western saddles, he knew he'd figure out a way to make that happen. Thor wouldn't be thrilled about it, but he could handle the extended gaits. If she wanted to jump, that would take a bit more figuring out, but he'd try to make it work. 

The blond instructor guided Tilda through a few simple exercises in bending. She knew the gist of them, as she'd done them under Bard's instruction, but she still listened to everything Thranduil told her and didn't rush ahead or do something she deemed similar. 

By the time she was trotting, Sigrid and Bain were finished. Thranduil told Tilda to stay in the circle, though, despite the increase in room to move around; Bard liked that, as it gave the lesson a more intimate and safe feel. He opened the gate for his other children and waved to Thranduil as he followed them to the stalls. Tilda was in good hands, he knew, and she didn't need him watching over her---even if he wanted to watch every minute of her ride. 

When Thor and Jane were clipped into the crossties, Bard dismissed Bain and Sigrid. They protested, of course, but he was insistent. 

"I like grooming," he reminded them. "It's peaceful." 

Bain glanced at his sister before looking back at Bard. "Well... if you're sure..." 

"I am. Go have fun. Or go warm up. Something. I've got this." 

"Okay," Sigrid agreed. "But, next time you ride---"

"I'll do the grooming, then, too." 

She huffed. Bard grinned. "Get out of here. Go do something vacation-y." 

"That's so not a word." 

He chuckled. "It is now." 

Bain tugged on his sister's jacket. "C'mon. Let's go make hot chocolate." 

Sigrid eventually nodded and the pair of them left Bard alone with his horses. He patted Thor's muzzle and thought about starting with him, but he ended up starting with Jane. The mare never handled being idle as well as Thor did; he didn't want her to start fussing. 

He took his time, untacking her and grooming her for the second time that day. He worked hard, grooming her with enthusiasm to warm up, and by the time he put her blanket on and took her into her stall, he felt the cold a little less than he had by the arena gate. Thor's grooming---which was just as thorough and energised---helped to warm him a bit more. He almost wanted to take his coat off; he did, however, know better than to do something like that. 

When he made his way back to the arena, after putting hay in both horses' stalls, he saw Sigrid and Bain and Legolas in the arena with Thranduil and Tilda. Their older children were moving trotting poles and Thranduil was instructing Tilda as she prepared to go through the low-to-the-ground course. 

Bard smiled. He settled back on the bench by the gate and watched them all together. Everyone was smiling---even if Tilda looked more nervous than elated---and they looked like they were genuinely enjoying the moment. 

_Is this our family? Is this a sign of things to come?_ he wondered as he watched them. 

At those thoughts, his stomach seemed to flutter. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and tried to steer his mind to less complicated, less emotional, and less rushed subjects. 

Legolas ended up at his end of the arena by the time the course was complete; he hopped over the fence and sat with him. 

Bard smiled. "Are you going to ask for a reining lesson now?" he teased. 

The younger blond opened his mouth, hesitated, and then grinned. "You know, I wasn't going to ask that, but... I just might some day. That could be fun. I've never tried reining." 

The reiner grinned back at him. "Any time," he said, even though he didn't know when he'd see Legolas again after he took his family back to Esgaroth Farms. "I'll get you sliding and spinning in no time." 

"Brilliant." 

"Payback to your father for this," he joked. 

Legolas laughed for a moment before he stopped and spoke. "You're not serious, right---"

"About you reining, yes. About needing revenge? No," Bard assured him. "She's allowed to be different. And if she likes english better than western, that's fine." 

He nodded. "Will Thor..." 

"He won't be wild about it, but he's athletic. He can take it. And poles like this are in trail, so he's not unfamiliar with them," Bard said when Legolas trailed off of his question. "Jumping... he doesn't know how to do that. But, poles would be fine." 

Legolas smiled. "She'll be after you for a horse, then." 

Bard chuckled, groaning a little. "Let me get through finding her the gear first." 

The young man's smile increased in width. "That won't be hard," he said. "All-purpose english saddles always sell easily if they're in good shape." 

"I'll have to look into it," Bard agreed. 

He turned his gaze to his daughter, as he'd heard Thranduil tell her to start at the first set of poles. He smiled as she nodded and pressed her lips together; she was a perfect example of both concentration and vibrating energy. He hoped she did well. He knew she'd keep at it until she got it right, but he still hoped she got through the course the first time with few mistakes. 

Biscuit's gait got bouncier as Tilda took him over the first four trotting poles. She was leaning forward, but had her calves pressed firmly into his sides to urge him up and over them. She grinned a little and turned to go over the next set---two poles together, that time---and listened to everything Thranduil was telling her as she went. 

"She likes it," Legolas commented. 

Bard smiled and nodded, not taking his eyes from her. She struck the next set of poles---a result of taking a corner too sharply, Thranduil explained to her---but she cleared the next set on the arena's long diagonal cleanly and changed directions to go over the last few obstacles. 

When she finished, Sigrid and Bain cheered. Legolas joined in. Bard laughed and clapped, applauding his daughter's efforts. Tilda beamed at everyone, but it wasn't until Thranduil agreed that she did well that she really seemed to glow with happiness. 

"Let's try it one more time," Thranduil suggested, after he walked over to the poles she'd knocked and ensured they were straight. "And then we'll take Biscuit in and give him an apple." 

Tilda nodded. She went back to the starting point, trotted a circle, and then tackled the pattern again. Thranduil didn't say much that time, but when she finished, he walked over to her and spoke quietly. 

"I'm going to go start dividing up the feed," Legolas said quietly. 

"I'll help," Bard offered. 

Legolas nodded and the pair of them set off for the feed room, Bard waving to Thranduil and his children as they left the arena. They worked in near silence, but it was amicable; Elrond and Gandalf joined them, having come from the house, and they reported that the kitchen smelled entirely too good. 

"Arwen is worse than your father, Legolas," the old man grouched. "She threatened to beat me with a spoon if I stole a taste of the gravy." 

Legolas laughed. "I think my father has threatened me with a spoon once or twice." 

"Me, too," Elrond agreed. 

Bard chuckled and pushed one of the wheelbarrows loaded with buckets of individual meals out into the aisle. Elrond followed him and they took a couple of the rows of stalls together, as Legolas and Gandalf went the other way. 

It didn't take long to finish the job. Once the wheelbarrows were back in the feed room, Bard went through the aisles with Legolas and they gave each horse a flake of hay. By the time they were finished with that, Elrond and Gandalf had swept the aisles after them and Thranduil and Tilda had put Biscuit back in his stall. 

"Da!" Tilda exclaimed. "I rode english!" 

"I know, darling," he replied. "You looked great. You had fun?" When she nodded, he smiled. "Did you thank Thranduil for taking the time to---"

"Yes, she did," the blond in question interrupted. "Honestly. She has better manners than you, sometimes." 

Bard grinned. "I know. I'm just checking." 

"Unnecessarily," he commented. He smiled and looked down at Tilda. "Want to go to the house and get cleaned up?"

She nodded and took his gloved hand in hers. Thranduil waved to Bard, who snorted at being ditched so easily by his daughter, and he followed the girl's lead out of the barn. 

"Well, then." 

Legolas chuckled. "Let's go. Everything's done, and I want to eat." He paused, smirked, and added: "I'm not taking your hand, though. No offence." 

A laugh escaped Bard's lips. "None taken."


End file.
